The Golden Oath
The heavy iron tongs hung in Margaret’s grip, their weight a familiar anchor against the tremor that had begun in her fingertips three days prior. The furnace roared, a low, guttural sound that vibrated through the soles of her boots, but the heat no longer reached her skin. It stopped at the surface of her hands, which had taken on a faint, pearlescent sheen, brittle as old parchment. She was...
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