The Golden Cellar
The dust did not settle; it grew. It coated the inside of Kaelen’s mouth, gritty and sweet, tasting of old blood and iron filings. He scrubbed at his cheeks with a rag that was already black with the substance, but the powder seemed to seep from the pores of his skin rather than cling to the surface. Outside the heavy oak door of the vault, the boots of the Inquisition guards crunched on the...
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