The Golden Ritual
The glass shattered. It did not break loudly. It broke with a sigh, a thin, high-pitched note that cut through the heavy air of the parlor. The mirror on the wall, once whole and reflective, was now a web of fractures. Each shard caught the dim light from the gas lamp, throwing prismatic ghosts across the wallpaper. Margaret stared at it. Her hands were steady. They were always steady. That was...
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