The Golden Oath
The gold was cracked, a fissure running through the casing of the Great Oath like a vein of dried blood, and Elias Thorne held it up to the grey morning light with trembling hands. He was a clockmaker, a man whose life was measured in the precise tick of escapements and the smooth sweep of hands, but this object, a chime the size of a human skull, refused to keep time. It sat on his workbench,...
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