The Golden Ritual
The explosion did not roar; it swallowed the sound. One moment, I was standing in the corridor of the Department of Civic Harmony, watching the dust motes dance in the shafts of afternoon light, and the next, the floor tilted beneath my boots like the deck of a sinking ship. The air turned to lead, heavy and suffocating, before the pressure wave hit me with the force of a physical blow. I was...
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