The Golden Ritual
The paper smelled of dust and old ink, a scent that had become indistinguishable from my own skin over the last twenty years. I held the fragment up to the light, the gold leaf flaking away like dead skin, and felt the familiar thrill of discovery that had driven me since I was a boy with a magnifying glass. It was the final page of the Golden Ritual, the text I had spent two decades...
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