The Golden Quest
The cellar of the Ashworth estate did not smell of damp earth or rotting wood, as cellars ought to, but of a thick, cloying sweetness that hung in the air like a physical weight, a scent so potent it coated the back of the throat and settled in the lungs with the density of amber resin. Elias, twelve years old and sharp-eyed with a restless, hungry intellect that had never quite found a vessel...
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