The Golden Ritual
The carriage wheels groaned against the cobblestones of the Iron Palace, a sound that seemed to vibrate through Elias’s bones as he clutched the small, gold-leafed astrolabe in his lap. He was forty years old, a court archivist of modest rank, and he had come here not for the glory of service, but to secure his position against the rising tide of Chancellor Vane’s influence. The Chancellor was...
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