The Golden Oath
The link of the chain lay cold and heavy in Elias Thorne’s palm, a single segment of gold that had been cut from the neck of the High Inquisitor’s predecessor three days prior. It smelled of old sweat and iron, a scent that clung to the stone walls of the inquisition chamber, where the air was thick with the damp rot of the plague that had been consuming the town of Oakhaven for the past month....
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