The Faded Quadrant
The cellar door weighed forty pounds of iron and oak, and I had to lift it with both hands, my knuckles white against the cold metal. I counted the steps down as I went, one to twelve, the air growing thicker with every descent until it felt less like atmosphere and more like a physical weight pressing against my chest. I was Elias Thorne, Captain of the Royal Guard, and my orders were clear:...
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