The Golden Cellar
The golden thread snapped with a sound like a wet finger breaking against dry skin. Elias did not flinch, though his hand, buried to the wrist in the damp, fungal earth of the cellar floor, trembled violently. He pulled the strand free, watching it retract into the dark mass with a sluggish, muscular resistance, and the bioluminescent veins that had once pulsed with a steady, amber warmth now...
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