The Golden Ritual

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2026-08-18 07:12:55 -

The Golden Ritual

The road was red. It was not blood, but clay. It was the color of dried skin. We walked. My feet bled. The mud sucked at my heels. It was a cold day. The wind bit. It smelled of iron and rot. I was alone. Or so I thought. The village was behind me. It was gone. I had left it at dawn. I had not looked back. I could not. I carried a lantern. It was brass. It was tarnished. The glass was cracked....

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