The Golden Ritual
You stand before the mirror, the glass so thick and dark with age that it swallows the light of the candle held in your left hand, leaving only a ghostly, trembling reflection of your own face, a face that has not been young in forty years, a face that has watched the world turn from the high, cold windows of the Blackwood estate, a face that carries the weight of the iron gauntlet resting upon...
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