The Golden Oath
The fire had eaten the Hagia Sophia’s roof before Elias even saw the Venetian banner snapping in the smoke-choked air, a red cross bleeding against the grey sky like a wound that would not close. He stood in the street of Mese, the cobblestones slick with soot and the blood of strangers, his chest heaving not from the heat but from the weight of the object clutched in his left hand. It was a...
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