The Golden Cellar
"You are dead." The voice came from the shadows. It was soft. It was polite. It cut the air like a blade. Miles Vane did not turn. He held the glass. The liquid inside was amber. It swirled. It caught the light. It looked like honey. It looked like blood. He did not blink. His eyes were wide. They were dry. They stared at the wall. The wall was stone. The stone was cold. The stone was old....
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