The Golden Oath
The silver chalice sat on the table, warm against the cold morning air. You held it in your hands, feeling that strange, rhythmic pulse beneath the metal, a heartbeat that had no source. It was the only thing left of the Thorne legacy, a heavy, tarnished cup that your grandfather had carried from the trenches and which you now kept hidden in the cellar to save from the auctioneer’s gavel. You...
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