The Golden Ritual
The vault was not a place, but a hunger that had teeth. Giuseppa Bellini woke with the taste of iron in her mouth, the dream of the golden chalice still burning behind her eyes, a phantom weight in her hands that demanded to be held. She was thirty-two, a debt collector with a limp that ached in the damp Sicilian air, and the lawsuit that was eating her farm was a slow, grinding tooth in the...
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