The Golden Cellar
The cellar was not a place of darkness, but of a suffocating, golden pressure that seemed to emanate from the very stones, a light that did not illuminate so much as it suffocated the air, turning every breath into a thick, syrupy inhalation of old dust and the metallic tang of forgotten blood. Commander Elias Thorne sat on the cold flagstones, his knees drawn up to his chest, the weight of his...
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