The Golden Oath

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2026-08-24 16:23:28 -

The Golden Oath

The parchment lay on the oak table, the ink still wet and smelling of iron and gall, and I held the quill steady, my hand trembling not from cold but from the weight of the silence behind me. I was Elias, thirty-two years old, the youngest scribe in the Abbey of St. Jude, and I wanted the Archivist’s chair. I wanted it because the chair meant a room with a window, a fire that did not sputter,...

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