The Golden Oath
The basement of St. Jude’s Asylum hummed with the low, electric thrum of fluorescent lights that never flickered, never died, and never slept. Twelve-year-old Elias sat on the cold concrete floor, his knees drawn to his chest, holding a small glass vial filled with a liquid that glowed like captured sunlight. It was the only warm thing in the room, the only thing that felt real, and he pressed...
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