The Golden Ritual
The fog did not rise. It waited. It pooled in the hollows of the valley like a white, silent flood, erasing the edges of the world until the only thing that remained was the path. Elias walked it. He walked it with the careful, shuffling gait of a man who had learned that the ground was not to be trusted. In his hands, he carried the box. It was small, no larger than a loaf of bread, wrapped in...
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