The Golden Cellar
Thorne, get down there. The voice of Major Halloway cut through the heavy, humid air of the subterranean vault, sharp as a blade drawn across a whetstone. I dropped to my knees on the cold flagstones, the grit biting into my kneecaps, and looked up at the man who had signed my commission six years ago. The Golden Cellar, as the locals called it, was not a cellar at all but a vast, hollowed-out...
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