The Golden Ritual
The resignation letter lay flat on the mud, its edges curling upward like a dead leaf, the ink smudged by the damp that had soaked through the sergeant’s coat three hours prior. Elias Thorne did not look at it; he looked instead at his left hand, bound to the axle of a rusted iron wheel that had materialized from the fog at dawn, its teeth grinding against the flesh of his palm with every step...
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