The Golden Oath
The chandeliers in the Hollow Court did not hang from the ceiling; they floated, suspended in the thick, amber air that smelled of ozone and old paper. You stood in the center of the gilded hall, your twelve-year-old hands trembling as you held the two halves of your father’s circlet. The gold was warm to the touch, vibrating with a low, sick hum that you felt in your teeth. Around you, the...
0 Σχόλια 0 Μοιράστηκε 1 Views 0 Προεπισκόπηση