The Glass Garden of Silence
The fog clung to the Northumbrian moors like a damp shroud, swallowing the skeletal remains of the winter oaks. Inside the conservatory, Arthur stood amidst a riot of impossible colors. Orchids the size of human heads pulsed with a rhythmic, violet light, and vines of iridescent silver coiled around the wrought-iron pillars, humming a low, dissonant tune. It was a masterpiece of botanical...
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