The Golden Oath
The gold band sat in my palm, cold as a stone pulled from a winter river, its surface worn smooth by decades of anxious thumbs. I turned it over, watching the light catch the faint, hairline crack near the band’s inner curve, a flaw that had no business being there. It was a small thing, a tarnished ring, no wider than a finger, yet it held a weight that seemed to press against the floor of my...
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