The Golden Cellar
The cellar was not a place of darkness, but of a terrible, golden light that seemed to bleed through the very stones, a luminescence that had no source, no shadow, and no mercy, and it was here, in this impossible subterranean hall where the air tasted of iron and crushed lilies, that Thomas Bradshaw sat alone with his hands bound by chains that were warm to the touch, feeling the heat of them...
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