The Golden Ritual
The house burned in a silence so profound it hummed. Elias stood on the porch. The timber groaned. It did not crack. It simply exhaled, a long, dry sigh that sent a plume of grey ash drifting into the still, amber air. The heat was a physical weight, pressing against his chest, a warm hand over his heart. He did not run. He did not scream. He watched the roof collapse inward, a slow, deliberate...
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