The Golden Cellar
The mortar was stone, cold and heavy in my hands, but my fingers shook as if they belonged to a stranger. I crushed the final vial of the Golden Tonic, the amber liquid turning to dust in the darkness of the cellar. Above me, the lock on the door clicked shut with a finality that silenced the air. I was not merely trapped; I was being erased. The Magistrate had not come to arrest me, but to...
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