The Golden Ritual
The fog did not merely settle upon the city of Oakhaven; it possessed the buildings, the cobblestones, and the breath of the citizens, a thick, grey gauze that turned the afternoon light into a pale, sickly amber and made the distance an unreliable liar, a suggestion rather than a fact, so that the young boy, Arthur, stood at the edge of the precipice of the park, his fingers white-knuckled...
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