The Golden Ritual
The fire started in the left hand of Silas Vane. It did not begin as pain, but as a warmth, a pleasant, golden heat that spread from the wrist to the fingertips like honey poured over warm bread. Silas was standing in the center of his workshop in the town of Oakhaven, a place that seemed to exist in a timeless haze of dust and quiet industry. He was a maker of clocks, a man whose life was...
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