The Golden Oath
"Did you file the report, Julian? Or are we waiting for the clock to strike twelve?" Elara stood alone in the glass-walled archive, the hum of the ventilation system a low, constant drone against her temples. The Golden Oath sat on the steel desk before her, a relic of brass and tarnished gold that seemed to drink the light from the overhead fluorescents. It whispered. Not with sound, but with...
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