The Golden Ritual
The banquet hall of the city of Aethelgard was a cathedral of glass and iron, a shimmering monolith that pierced the low, bruised clouds of the ancient sky, and you stood at the center of it, your hands trembling not from the cold, which was nonexistent in this place of perpetual, sterile twilight, but from the sheer, crushing weight of the gold that was being poured into your life, a liquid...
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