The Golden Ritual
The stone floor was cold enough to bite through the leather of my boots. I sat in the shadows of the High Warden’s chamber, the Golden Chalice resting in my lap, its surface humming with a low, metallic thrum that I alone could hear. It was the only sound in the Keep, a whisper that had grown louder since my father’s death three winters past, binding my will to the vessel with a force that felt...
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