The Golden Cellar
The feast was a riot of light and salt, held in the stone cellar beneath the old apothecary shop on Weaver’s Lane. Candles dripped wax like slow, golden tears onto the flagstones, illuminating the faces of the townspeople who had gathered to honor the passing of the year. The air was thick with the smell of roasted lamb, spiced wine, and the damp, earthy scent of the cellar itself, a place that...
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