The Golden Ritual
The mud was deep. It sucked at your boots with a wet, heavy mouth, pulling you down into the dark earth. You ran. Your breath came in sharp, ragged hitches. The air tasted of iron and rot. Behind you, the sound of shuffling feet. Not human. Not quite. You knew the weight of them. You knew the cold. Stop. You stopped. Your legs trembled. You looked up. The house loomed above you. It was old....
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