The Golden Ritual
The feast was loud. It was a wall of sound. Clinking glass. Roaring fire. The scrape of silver on porcelain. But in the corner, near the drafty window, the silence was heavy. It was a physical thing. It pressed against the cheeks of Aldric, the Royal Alchemist. He did not look up. He stared at the goblet in his hand. The wine was dark. It was red as old blood. It swirled slowly. He was the...
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