The Golden Ritual
The boy, Thomas, stood in the center of the kitchen, his hands shaking so violently that the spoon clattered against the porcelain rim, a sound that seemed to pierce the heavy, humid air of the August afternoon. He was twelve years old, small for his age, with hair the color of wet straw that stuck to his forehead in damp clumps, and he was staring at the pot on the stove where a pale, viscous...
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