The Golden Oath
Min-jun Ahn stood in the tithe barn, the smell of damp grain and old iron filling his nose before the light did. He was thirty-two, a court physician whose hands trembled only when he held the golden root, a sliver of wood that glowed faintly, a pulse of amber in the dark. The Emperor’s cough had turned the palace air thick with blood, and Min-jun had accepted the command to execute the failed...
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