The Golden Ritual
The dream began with the taste of rust and honey. It was a thick, cloying sweetness that coated the tongue, hiding the metallic sting beneath. Thomas lay in the straw of the wagon, his eyes shut tight against the rhythmic thump of the wheels on the cobblestones. He was seven years old. His brother, Elias, was eight. They were not supposed to be here. They were supposed to be in the charity ward...
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