The Golden Cellar
The rain had been falling for three days, a relentless, gray sheet that turned the cobblestones of the outer courtyard into a slick, dark mirror reflecting the towering, jagged spires of the King’s Keep, and I stood at the threshold of the heavy oak door, my hand trembling on the cold iron ring, knowing that by the time the sun rose, I would no longer be the man who had walked in, for I carried...
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