The Golden Ritual
The dream was of a garden. Not a wild one, but a place of severe, geometric order. Hedges trimmed to the height of a man’s waist. Stones laid in concentric circles. In the center, a single oak tree stood bare, its branches reaching out like the fingers of a skeletal hand. It was winter. The air tasted of iron and old paper. Dr. Elias Thorne woke with a gasp. The sheets were damp. Outside his...
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