The Golden Ritual
The rain did not fall; it pressed. Elias Thorne stood on the heath, his boots sinking into the mud that seemed to grip his ankles with a wet, tenacious hunger. In his left hand, he clutched the golden lily. Its petals were withered, brown at the edges, yet they pulsed with a faint, rhythmic light that matched the failing beat of his own heart. Elias was a botanist, a man of taxonomy and Latin...
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