The Golden Cellar
The cellar door was heavy. Iron banded. Rust ate the hinges like a slow, red fire. Elias stood before it, hands at his sides. He was not a man. Or rather, he was not entirely one. The shadow clung to his neck. A dark stain that would not wash out. It pulsed. A heartbeat under the skin. He had worn it for three days. Three days since the incident in the Archives. He turned the wheel. The...
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