The Golden Ritual
You arrive in Oakhaven with the rain already weeping against the glass of the station window. The air smells of wet iron and coal dust. It is a smell that sticks to the teeth. You are here to investigate the silence. Not a silence of absence, but a silence of presence. The town is asleep, or perhaps it is merely holding its breath. The fog rolls in thick, erasing the edges of the cobblestones,...
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