The Golden Harbor
You dream of the taste of rot, a heavy, copper-thick sweetness that coats the back of your throat like varnish, and when you wake, the damp chill of the cellar seeps into your bones, reminding you that the cellar is not a place of rest but a tomb for things that should have been thrown away. You are Thomas, the village apothecary, a title that sounds grander than the reality of your existence,...
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