The Golden Ritual
The iron gate of the cellar did not creak when it was sealed, for Lord Aldric had ordered the hinges greased with bear fat that morning, a detail Sir Thomas noted with the cold precision of a man who had nothing left to do but count the seconds between his own heartbeats. It was the autumn of 1348, and the air in the ancestral manor of Blackwood Hall was thick with the smell of damp stone and...
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