The bell rang. It did not toll. It vibrated in the marrow. I woke with my mouth full of gold dust. It tasted of iron. It tasted of old blood. I am seven. I am small. The room is stone. The stone is cold. The air is thick. It smells of wax and sweat. I do not move. I am afraid. The dust in my teeth grinds. It is not dust. It is scale. I look at my hands. They are yellow. The veins are dark lines beneath the skin. I do not scream. I do not weep. I am a vessel. I am the Chalice. I have been chosen. The choice was made before I was born. I know this. I feel it in the soles of my bare feet. The floor is slick. Something has spilled. It is gold. It is liquid. It flows away from the bed. It flows toward the door. I follow it. I must follow it. The hallway is long. The shadows are long. They stretch like fingers. They touch my ankles. They do not pull. They wait. I walk. My feet do not make a sound. The gold dust settles on my shoulders. It becomes a cloak. It is heavy. It is warm. I feel the presence of Thomas. He is behind me. I do not turn. I know he is there. He is my shadow. He is my ally. He is also the enemy. He is the one who will kill me. He is the one who will save me. He is the system. He is the law. He is the gold. I walk on. The door opens. It is wide. It is black. Beyond it is the Plaza. The Plaza is vast. The sky is grey. The buildings are tall. They are made of white stone. They are covered in grime. The people are there. They are many. They are silent. They do not breathe. They watch. Their eyes are empty. They are hollows. They are pits. I feel their gaze. It burns. It does not hurt. It defines. I am not a child. I am an object. I am the prize. The gold in my hair shines. The gold in my eyes shines. I am the ritual. I am the end. I am the beginning. I walk into the square. The ground is hard. It is packed earth. It is dry. It cracks under my weight. The sound is like a bone breaking. I hear Thomas. He is close. He is breathing. His breath is hot. It is on my neck. I shiver. The gold flakes fall. They land on the ground. They do not shine. They are dull. They are dead. I stop. I turn. I face him. He is tall. He is old. His face is smooth. He has no wrinkles. He has no eyes. He has only a mouth. The mouth is wide. It is red. It is wet. He smiles. It is not a smile. It is a tear. The skin splits. I do not run. I cannot run. My legs are made of gold. They are heavy. They are fixed. I stand. I look at him. I look at the people. They are still. They are waiting. They want me to choose. They want me to speak. They want me to be. I am not. I am nothing. I am the gold. I open my mouth. I speak. I say his name. I say my name. I say the name of the city. The words are heavy. They are stones. They fall from my lips. They hit the ground. They do not bounce. They sink. The earth drinks them. The silence returns. It is deeper. It is darker. Thomas steps forward. His foot touches the gold dust. It glows. It burns. He does not flinch. He is immune. He is part of it. He reaches for me. His hand is pale. It is thin. The fingers are long. They close around my wrist. The pain is sharp. It is clean. It is the end of pain. I feel the cold. It spreads up my arm. It spreads to my heart. I feel the gold leave me. It drains. It flows into him. I am light. I am empty. I am air. The people do not cheer. They do not move. They are statues. They are part of the building. The sky darkens. The grey turns to black. The stars come out. They are cold. They are far. I look at Thomas. His face is changing. The smooth skin is cracking. Gold peeks through. It is bright. It is blinding. His mouth opens. It is too wide. It is a void. He speaks. The voice is not his. It is the voice of the city. It is the voice of the stones. It is the voice of the dust. It says I am enough. It says I am the law. It says I am the end. I feel the truth. It is late. It is always late. I am not a victim. I am the winner. I have chosen this. I have always chosen this. The gold in my veins is my choice. It is my will. It is my devotion. I love the cold. I love the stone. I love the silence. I love the weight. I am the ritual. I am the golden rule. I am the boundary. The path is closed. The door is shut. The key is in my chest. I hold it. I do not drop it. I am still. I am solid. The world spins. The people fade. The buildings dissolve. Only Thomas remains. He is not Thomas. He is the mirror. He is me. He is the child. He is the old man. He is the gold. He looks at me. I look at him. We are one. The pain is gone. The fear is gone. The self is gone. What remains is the shape. The shape is golden. The shape is eternal. The shape is quiet. The bell rings again. It vibrates in the air. It vibrates in the earth. It vibrates in the soul. I do not wake. I do not dream. I am. I am the dust. I am the stone. I am the silence. I am the choice. I am the end. I am the beginning. I am the golden ritual. I am the path. I am the boundary. I am the gate. I am the lock. I am the key. I am the door. I am the wall. I am the city. I am the sky. I am the dark. I am the light. I am the gold. I am the child. I am the man. I am the nothing. I am the everything. I am the choice that defines me. I am the choice that erases me. I am the choice that saves me. I am the choice that kills me. I am the choice. I am the ritual. I am the end. I am the start. I am the middle. I am the silence between the beats. I am the breath before the scream. I am the dust in the air. I am the gold in the vein. I am the stone in the hand. I am the shadow on the wall. I am the light in the eye. I am the dark in the soul. I am the truth in the lie. I am the lie in the truth. I am the choice. I am the end. I am the beginning. I am the golden ritual. I am the path. I am the boundary. I am the gate. I am the lock. I am the key. I am the door. I am the wall. I am the city. I am the sky. I am the dark. I am the light. I am the gold. I am the child. I am the man. I am the nothing. I am the everything. I am the choice. I am the ritual. I am the end. I am the start. I am the middle. I am the silence. I am the breath. I am the dust. I am the gold. I am the stone. I am the shadow. I am the light. I am the dark. I am the truth. I am the lie. I am the choice. I am the end. I am the beginning. I am the golden ritual. I am the path. I am the boundary. I am the gate. I am the lock. I am the key. I am the door. I am the wall. I am the city. I am the sky. I am the dark. I am the light. I am the gold. I am the child. I am the man. I am the nothing. I am the everything. I am the choice. I am the ritual. I am the end. I am the start. I am the middle. I am the silence. I am the breath. I am the dust. I am the gold. I am the stone. I am the shadow. I am the light. I am the dark. I am the truth. I am the lie. I am the choice. I am the end. I am the beginning.