The Golden Ritual
The air in the factory hall tasted of copper and burnt sugar, a thick, cloying scent that seemed to hang in the stagnant air like a visible weight, pressing down on the shoulders of the women who moved in rhythmic, mechanical unison along the assembly line, their fingers stained black with the soot of the coal furnaces that heated the molten gold into a shimmering, liquid mirror, a mirror that...
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