The Golden Ritual
Thorne, you are summoned to the High Court before the sun clears the eastern ridge. The words were not shouted, but they carried the weight of a stone dropped into a well, echoing down into the quiet of his study where Elias Thorne sat with his hands resting on a table worn smooth by decades of gavel strikes. He was fifty years old, a magistrate in a rigid medieval-style manor, and he had spent...
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