The Golden Ritual
The dream is always the same, a recurring loop of graphite and parchment where you stand before a massive, bound ledger, the leather spine cracked and weeping dust, and you are holding a eraser, not a pen, working tirelessly at the page to remove the ink of your own name, Elias Thorne, until the letters fade into the white void of the paper, leaving only the faint, ghostly impression of where...
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