The Golden Ritual
The morning began, as it always did, with the sound of the wind scraping against the windowpane, a dry, rhythmic hiss that sounded less like weather and more like a secret being whispered too close to the ear. Elias Thorne sat at the edge of his bed, his hands resting on his knees, feeling the weight of the silence that had settled over the manor house. It was not an empty silence. It was a...
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