The Golden Oath
Act I Mona Idris’s hands were already black with dust when she woke, the grit of the harbor watchtower settling into the creases of her palms like ash. She sat up in the narrow bed of the flat on sixty-three of Corvid Lane, the rain hammering the roof holes with a rhythmic, physical violence that drowned out the distant bells marking a shift nobody worked. The dream was the same as always: the...
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