The Golden Oath
The letter lay on the kitchen table, its edges curled in the damp heat of the cellar, the ink blotted by the condensation that had seeped through the floorboards for weeks. I read it again, my eyes tracing the formal, stiff script of the village magistrate, who demanded the surrender of the "tainted relic" by sundown, citing the ancient statutes of purity that our family had been accused of...
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