The Golden Cellar
The iron key was cold in Thomas’s palm, a weight that seemed to anchor him to the earth even as the world tilted around him. He stood in the narrow corridor of the old manor, the air thick with the scent of damp stone and forgotten centuries. For twenty years, he had served the Duke of Aldenbury, a man whose name was whispered with a mixture of reverence and terror across the county. Thomas was...
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