The Golden Cellar
The cellar door did not open so much as it exhaled, a long, shuddering breath of damp earth and old copper that rolled up the stairs and settled into the marrow of my bones, a sensation so profound it felt less like an olfactory event and more like a physical intrusion, a cold hand pressing against the back of my neck, warning me that the air I had always breathed was a lie, a thin veneer of...
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