The Golden Oath
The dust was not merely in the air; it was a living thing, a grey slurry that coated Elias Vane’s tongue with the taste of chalk and old blood as he kicked aside a splintered beam of oak. He was thirty years old, a man who had spent the last decade charming his way through the courts of Aurelia with a smile that promised absolution and a mind that sought only the cracks in the stone, and now he...
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