The Golden Cellar
The air in the fermentation room of the Meridian Distillery hung thick and sweet, a heavy, golden mist that coated the back of the throat with the taste of ripe stone fruit and impending rot. Elias Thorne stood before the row of oak vats, his hands resting on the cold, damp wood, watching the slow, viscous swirl of the apple mash as it began its final, irreversible transformation. He was a man...
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