The Golden Cellar
The banquet hall of the Old Stone House was thick with the scent of roasted lamb and beeswax, a heavy, cloying aroma that seemed to coat the back of the throat. The chandeliers hung low, their crystal drops catching the firelight and scattering it into a thousand fractured stars across the ceiling, while below, the guests moved in a slow, stately dance, their laughter echoing off the vaulted...
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