The Golden Cellar

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2026-08-20 00:13:46 -

The Golden Cellar

The ivy on the south wall had grown into a dense, green fist. I counted the leaves. One hundred and twelve. Each one a small, velvet tongue. They tasted of iron and old rain. I am a scholar of botany. Or I was. Now I am a keeper of secrets. The city of Aethelgard is stone and shadow. It does not sleep. It breathes. Elara stood by the window. Her back was to me. She wore the white dress. The one...

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