The Golden Cellar
Thorne. The word hung in the damp air of the cellar, heavy and sharp as a dropped hammer. Elias looked up from the ledger, his fingers stained black with ink and wax, and met the eyes of Guildmaster Aldous Vane, who stood with his back to the candlelight, a silhouette of rigid authority carved from the shadows. The cellar was a low, vaulted space beneath the Guildhall, smelling of wet stone and...
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