The Golden Ritual
The iron gate did not open; it dissolved. One moment, the rusted bars were a jagged fence against the grey sky, and the next, the air was simply empty, a void that smelled of ozone and crushed lavender. You stepped through without hesitation. You had been waiting for this threshold for six years, since the day the war took the shape of your friend, since the day the shrapnel in his chest turned...
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