The Golden Greenhouse
You are standing in the corridor of the Department of Antiquarian Texts, the air thick with the scent of foxed paper and the faint, metallic tang of dust that has settled over centuries. It is a Tuesday, or perhaps a Wednesday, the days having blurred into a continuous, gray smear of academic obligation. You are Dr. Arthur Vane, a man who has spent forty years cataloging the dead, and now, the...
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