The Golden Ritual
The silence broke at dawn. It was not a sound, but an absence of the hum that usually filled the corridors of St. Jude’s Sanatorium for the Nervous Afflictions. The machines had stopped. The lights flickered, then died. In the long, white room, Dr. Elias Thorne stood still. His hands were raised, trembling, as if he were holding a glass of water that had just turned to ice. He was a tall man,...
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