The Golden Oath
The ink in the bottle was nearly dry, a thick, viscous sludge that resisted the nib of my pen, and I counted the hours remaining in the day as I counted the lines of the *Codex Aureus* that still required transcription, thirty-two lines on the final folio, each one a barrier between the name of my sister, Elara, and the oblivion of history. It was October 14, 1892, and the light from the east...
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