The Golden Ritual

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2026-08-20 16:02:19 -

The Golden Ritual

The feast was loud. It was a roar of iron and blood. You sat at the end of the long oak table, the wood splintered under the weight of the elders. The air smelled of roasted goat and stale wine. You held your cup. Your hand shook. Not from cold. The cold was in the bones. It was in the marrow. You were far from home. The miles were too many to count. They had taken your name. They had given you...

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