The Golden Cellar
The glass beads on my throat were warm, but the air in the cellar was not. "You are shaking, Elias," said Master Thorne. His voice was a low rumble, like stones rolling in a dry riverbed. "Put the locket down." I did not move. The locket was heavy, a thick slab of onyx set in silver wire. It was not merely jewelry; it was a container. Inside, sealed behind a hairline crack in the stone, was a...
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