The Golden Ritual
The first entry was written on the back of a receipt for lead wire, the ink smudged by the rain that had been falling since the funeral of Alderman Silas Vane, my master and, until three days ago, the most respected goldsmith in the valley of Oakhaven. I am Elias Thorne, and I am forty years old, though the weight of the debt left in my hands feels like it has added a decade to my spine. Silas...
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