The Golden Ritual
The rain had been falling on the village of Oakhaven for so long that the air itself seemed to have turned into a wet, gray wool, clinging to your skin and your hair with a suffocating intimacy that made it difficult to breathe, let alone think, and as you stood before the ancient, twisted oak tree in the center of the village square, you could feel the dampness seeping into the very marrow of...
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