The Golden Ritual
The night the sky tore open above the manor, you did not scream, you stood by the window in your nightgown, watching the light that was not light bleed into the rafters, a golden fluid that smelled of ozone and old copper, and you knew with a certainty that settled into your marrow that the age of ignorance was over and the age of knowing had begun, and you were its first and only priestess....
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