The Golden Ritual
The brass key sat in Elias Thorne’s palm, cold and heavy, humming against his skin like a plucked wire. It was a small object, no longer than his thumb, but the vibration traveled up his radius bone, settling in the marrow of his wrist with a frequency that made his teeth ache. He rubbed his thumb over the intricate teeth of the lock mechanism, the metal warm now from his friction, and watched...
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