The Golden Oath
The letter lay on the desk, the paper thick and cream-colored, smelling faintly of the iron dust that permeated every breath in Blackwood. You read it twice, the ink smudging slightly where your thumb had pressed, the words cold and precise: *Termination of Contract. Effective Immediately.* Elias Thorne, thirty-four, archivist, sat in the dim light of his office, the angle of the afternoon sun...
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