The Golden Ritual
Thorne, get in here. The voice was not loud, but it carried the specific, dry weight of a man who had spent forty years deciding who was worth speaking to and who was merely furniture. I set down the ledger, its pages stiff with the grease of my thumb and the dampness of the cellar air, and followed Director Halloway down the corridor of the Blackwood Asylum. The linoleum beneath my shoes was...
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