The Golden Ritual
The sky cracked open. Not thunder. Light. White, blinding, silent light that poured down from a sky that was no longer blue but a bruised purple. It hit the asphalt. It hit the brick. It hit the faces of the men in the dark uniforms. There were three of them. Sergeant Elias Thorne stood in the center. His boots were heavy. His hands were empty. He did not raise his gun. He had no gun. The light...
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