The Golden Cellar
The cellar door is locked from the inside. You know this because you have been here for three days, and the bolt is a heavy piece of iron that has fused with the wood through time and sweat. You are a man who wears a uniform, though the fabric is now ragged and stained with the red earth of the subterranean world. You are a soldier, or perhaps a warden. The distinction has blurred in the dark....
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