The Golden Cellar
The sky above the city of Oakhaven did not fall. It broke. A sound like a cracking bone, vast and final, tore through the morning air. Then came the light. Not sunlight. Something older. A blinding, golden fire that poured from the fissure in the clouds, turning the cobblestones to glass and the air to liquid honey. You stood on the bridge. You were a soldier. You had worn the iron plate of the...
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