The Golden Cellar
The rain had not stopped for three days, turning the gravel drive of the Blackwood Estate into a slurry of mud and rot. Elias Thorne pulled his car up to the porch, the engine dying with a shudder that seemed to echo in the empty air. He was thirty-two, an archivist by trade and a hollow man by nature, driven by a primal, instinctual obsession with Julian Blackwood, the estate’s founder. He had...
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