The Golden Ritual
The mercury stood at three-tenths of an ounce, a weight so precise it felt less like a measurement and more like a verdict, as Arthur Vane adjusted the distillation coil with hands that trembled not from cold, but from the sheer, crushing gravity of the ambition he had swallowed whole. It was the night of the fourteenth of November, 1893, and the air in the laboratory was thick with the smell...
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