The Golden Ritual
Katerina Bakolas lived at sixty-three of Corvid Lane, a narrow house where the floorboards groaned under the weight of her father’s unfinished work. She was thirty-two, a city guard with a badge that felt heavier than the iron it was made of, and she wanted only to end the bleeding. The city’s stone walls wept gold, a slow, metallic drip that stained the pavement and the hands of those who...
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