The Golden Ritual
The fever took you on the third night, but the truth had been bleeding out for months. You were the town’s historian, a title that meant little in Oakhaven, a place where the past was not studied but survived. You lived in the stone house on the hill, surrounded by manuscripts that smelled of mildew and old paper. Your hands, once steady enough to transcribe the brittle vellum of the town’s...
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