The Golden Ritual
The count of the days had become my only true companion, a tally marked in charcoal on the cold, unyielding stone of the vault wall, each stroke a small violence against the silence that pressed against my eardrums. I was Silas Vane, a warden of the obsidian fortress of Aethelgard, and I had spent the last three years in the lower vaults, not by choice, but by the clerical error of a system...
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