The Golden Cellar
The frost bit the air. Elias stood at the gate. The iron was cold. It was colder than the stone. He looked at the field. The wheat was gone. Only stubble remained. He held a lantern. The glass cracked. A small fracture. Like a vein in ice. Elias was a man of books. He understood the weight of words. He did not understand the weight of steel. That was the work of others. That was the work of the...
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