The Golden Cellar
The cellar door groaned open, exhaling a breath of damp stone and forgotten time, and you stood there, Marguerite, holding the lantern like a shield against the encroaching dark. You are the Inspector, the woman who asks questions that no one in this valley of mist and slate wishes to answer, and tonight the valley has finally stopped pretending. The feast above is in full swing, a riot of...
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