The Golden Oath
The snow fell in thick, silent sheets against the high windows of Blackwood Manor, a white erasure of the world outside. Elias Thorne stood in the entryway, his breath pluming in the cold air, watching the stone walls loom above him like the cliffs of his ruined homeland. He was forty-two, his hands roughened by ink and labor, and he carried a desperation that sat heavy in his chest, a weight...
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