The Golden Ritual
1892, November 14. The gaslight in Ward C hissed like a snake trapped under a tile, casting long, trembling shadows across the linoleum floor of the Imperial Sanatorium. Captain Elias Thorne stood over the bed of a dying peasant, his face a mask of professional detachment that cracked only when his eyes caught the glint of something hidden beneath the man’s soiled sheets. It was a vial of...
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