The Golden Cellar
The cellar was not a cellar in the way one might expect, a damp and forgotten root system of the house, but a vast, golden chamber that breathed with a slow, rhythmic pulse, like the lungs of a sleeping god. We had gathered there, all of us, the senior officers and the junior aides, for a celebration that was less a party and more a ritual of endurance, a final toast before the storm that the...
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