The Golden Ritual

added blog Literature

2026-08-17 20:02:27 -

The Golden Ritual

The smoke tasted of copper and old ash. It filled the room. A thick, grey fog. We stood in the circle. The iron table. The cold stone floor. My hands shook. I could not stop them. Thomas held mine. His grip was iron. Cold. Steady. We were soldiers. Or so we told ourselves. The year was 1912. The city was London. The air outside was heavy with coal dust and the promise of rain. Inside, the air...

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