The Golden Ritual
The soot in Oakhaven did not fall like snow; it settled like a verdict, coating the cobblestones and the breath of men in a fine, grey powder that tasted of iron and regret. Elias Thorne, foreman of the Third Shift, stood in the center of the mill floor, his hands trembling not from the cold, but from the weight of the ritual he was attempting to complete. His daughter, Clara, lay in the...
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