The Golden Cellar
"Check the pressure again, Silas." "Steady, Captain." "Again." Silas didn’t move. He stood by the hatch, his hand resting on the cold steel rim. The air in the tunnel was thick, wet, and smelled of iron and old rain. It was the smell of the earth before a storm, or perhaps after a grave is dug. It was a smell that lived in the bones. "I said check it," the Captain said. His voice was low. It...
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