The Golden Oath
Act I Tigran Ionescu remembered the sound of the bell three days before the snow came, a single, sharp crack in the air that tasted of iron and cold. He had been standing on the gallery of the town’s central tower, the wind whipping his coat, when Governor Kessler’s order arrived via a courier on horseback. The order was simple: the mechanism was to be dismantled by the winter solstice to...
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