The Golden Cellar
The candle in the cellar sputtered, its flame bending not with wind but with a pressure I felt in my teeth, a low-frequency vibration that hummed through the limestone floor and up through the soles of my boots. I held the golden key in my left hand, its surface slick with a warmth that was not thermal but biological, a pulsing heat that matched the erratic rhythm of my own heartbeat. It had...
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