The Golden Greenhouse

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2026-08-18 05:42:06 -

The iron pike slips from your grip, clattering against the stone floor of the chapel, and you fall to your knees, the weight of the sword in your hand suddenly unbearable, not because of its mass, but because of the silence that follows the scream. You are not a man of war, though they made you one. You are a son, a guard, a shadow in the corner of a room where the light has been stolen. The...

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