The Golden Quest
The cellar smelled of wet stone and old iron. It was a heavy, suffocating scent that clung to the back of the throat, a taste of decay that Peter could not wash away. He stood in the center of the room, his boots sinking slightly into the damp earth. Above him, the floorboards of the dining room groaned under the weight of the guests. He could hear the clatter of silverware, the sharp pop of...
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