The Golden Cellar
The feast was a riot of gold and blood, a sensory assault that left your tongue numb with the sweetness of roasted honey and the metallic tang of fear. You sat at the head of the long oak table, the wood scarred by centuries of feasting and forgetting, and watched the steam rise from the communal bowl in great, curling ribbons that seemed to mimic the smoke of distant battles. Around you, the...
0 Yorumlar 0 hisse senetleri 1 Views 0 önizleme