The Golden Oath
"Stop," the Guild Master said, his voice flat as a trowel. "You are under arrest." I did not look up from the chisel. The stone under my hand was cold, a slab of granite from the quarry north of the river, but it hummed against my palm like a struck bell. I was Elias, forty-two years old, a mason with a reputation for steady hands and a secret that was eating me alive. I wanted to finish the...
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