The Golden Ritual

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2026-08-18 10:37:33 -

The Golden Ritual

The ink was black. Not just dark. Void. Mira held the quill. Her hand shook. No. She steadied it. Breath in. Breath out. The parchment lay flat. White. Blinding. She dipped the tip. Dried. Dip again. Wet. She wrote. One word. *Null.* The room was cold. Stone walls. Damp air. It smelled of rot. And old paper. This was the Hall of Records. Deep underground. Below the city. Below the roots of the...

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