The Golden Cellar
You dream of the cellar. It is not a dark place. It is gold. The light comes from the walls themselves, a soft, pulsing amber that feels like warm honey. You are standing on a floor of polished stone. The air is thick, sweet, and heavy with the scent of old paper and dried roses. You are not alone. There is a man there. He is older than you. His hands are stained with ink and dust. He looks at...
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