The Golden Ritual
Act I Rosa Trapani, a thirty-four-year-old border warden, carried a cracked leather ledger that weighed more than her service rifle. The fog in the Tuscan hills was not weather; it was a physical weight, pressing against her chest like a damp wool blanket soaked in brine. She had been walking for six hours, her boots sinking into the mud of the marshlands that bordered the new highway, a place...
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