The Golden Ritual
The feast of the Autumn Equinox had been laid out for three days, and the candles, rendered from the tallow of a thousand sacrificial sheep, had finally guttered into a thick, grey sludge that smelled of rot and old prayers. You sat at the far end of the long table, your hands folded in your lap, the fabric of your tunic coarse against the skin, a texture that reminded you of the chaff left in...
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