The Golden Cellar
The dream was not of gold, but of the sound of my own breath, a wet, rattling rattle that seemed to echo in the hollows of the stone walls long before I had even opened my eyes in the damp cold of the cellar. I am Elias Thorne, forty-two years old, the royal archivist for King Aldric, and I have come down here to count the lost gold, a task that is both my final duty and the only means by which...
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