The Golden Cellar
The letter lay on the wet flagstones, the wax seal broken, the ink still dark against the parchment. It was a dismissal, signed by Lord Blackwood, declaring the cellar a cursed ruin and ordering its immediate flooding. I held the paper in hands that shook not from the cold, but from the gold dust caked beneath my fingernails, the residue of the living moss that covered the vault’s foundation. I...
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