The Golden Cellar
The shattering was not loud, but it was total. One moment, the vaulted ceiling of the sub-basement archive was a dome of silence, dust motes dancing in the shafts of pale, artificial light; the next, the world outside had screamed, a concussion wave that turned the air into a solid wall of pressure. You felt it in your teeth before you saw the glass explode inward. The sound was a wet, tearing...
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