The Golden Cellar
The feast in the cellar of St. Jude’s was not a celebration of life, but a meticulous audit of its decay, a banquet of shadows where the air hung heavy with the scent of damp limestone and the metallic tang of old blood, and I sat at the center of this tableau, the warden of my own confinement, watching the candlelight flicker against the vaulted ceiling like the dying pulse of a trapped star....
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