The Golden Ritual
The fog did not merely settle upon the moor; it invaded it, a slow, creeping tide of grey that swallowed the iron fences and the skeletal remains of the old peat huts, until the world was reduced to a single, suffocating breath. Elias Thorne walked through this silence, his boots sinking into the saturated earth with a wet, heavy thud that seemed too loud for the stillness, too final for the...
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