The Golden Cellar
The cellar was dark, but it was not silent. It hummed, a low thrum that lived in the stones and the damp air, a sound like a held breath that had forgotten how to release. I pressed my palm against the north wall, the rough granite cold against my skin, and felt the familiar pulse. It was there, faint but insistent, a golden heat that spread from the stone into my bones. "You see it, Elias?"...
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