The Golden Oath
The ledger was heavier than it looked, a brick of leather-bound accountability that sat in Elara Vance’s hands like a stone pulled from the bottom of a river, cold and dense with silt. She stood in the basement of the State Historical Society, the air thick with the smell of decaying paper and the damp chill that seeped through the concrete floor, and for a long moment she did not move, only...
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