The Golden Ritual
The bell tolled. It was the third hour. The air in the Hall of Silence smelled of wet stone and dried sage. Captain Elias Thorne adjusted his gloves. They were white. They were spotless. He watched the ant. It crawled across the obsidian floor. Its legs moved in a frantic, rhythmic panic. Elias did not move. He waited. The ant was small. It was insignificant. Yet it carried a burden twice its...
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