The Golden Ritual
Yamato Yoshida’s hands shook as he poured the molten gold into the crucible, the heat blistering the skin of his knuckles. He was thirty-two years old, an enforcer for the Iron Vein, and he needed the seal to hold. The air in the factory tasted of sulfur and old pennies, a metallic tang that coated the back of his throat. He watched the liquid swirl, looking for the shape of Elara, for the...
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