The Golden Cellar
The cellar is dark. You are alone. The air smells of wet stone and old iron. You count the steps down. One. Two. Three. Your boots echo. The sound is hollow. It hangs in the silence. You stop at the bottom. A single bulb flickers. It casts long, wavering shadows. You stand still. Your hand rests on your hip. Your gun is holstered. You do not draw it. Not yet. You look around. The room is vast....
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