The Golden Ritual
The gate was not locked. That was the first anomaly, the first crack in the porcelain skin of the protocol. Elias Thorne stood before the iron bars, his hand hovering over the latch, feeling the cold metal seep into his palm like a memory he had not yet processed. He was a Warden of the Outer Perimeter, a title that sounded grander in the annual reports than it felt in the mud. His uniform, a...
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