The Golden Ritual
The hammer struck the iron cap, a dull, wet thud that traveled up my wrist and settled in the shoulder like a bruise, and I stopped not because of the pain but because the floor beneath my boots gave a low, rhythmic shudder that had nothing to do with the sledge I was swinging. I am Arthur Penhaligon, and I have kept the ledger of this estate for twenty-two years, a tenure that has made the...
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