The Golden Oath
The candlelight in the Great Hall of Duke Valerius did not so much illuminate the room as it accused it, casting long, skeletal shadows against the stone walls. Elias Thorne stood at the center of the dais, his hands steady but his heart a frantic bird against his ribs, holding the chalice high. It was a masterpiece of glassblowing, a vessel of such delicate, swirling gold that it seemed to...
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