The Golden Ritual
The dream was of gold. Not the dull, heavy gold of coins, but a liquid light, flowing like honey through the cracks of the stone floor. It pooled at the feet of the women in the grey dresses. It seeped into the hems of their skirts. It glowed in the eyes of the elders who stood on the raised platform. It was beautiful. It was terrifying. Wren woke with the taste of metal in her mouth. She was...
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