The Golden Greenhouse

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2026-08-19 18:07:14 -

The banquet hall smelled of roasted lamb and old stone. Maren sat at the high table. Her hands were still. They rested on the polished oak. She held a glass of dark wine. The liquid swirled. It caught the candlelight. She did not drink. She watched. The room was full of voices. They wove together. A tapestry of sound. Laughter. Clinking glass. The scrape of chairs. It was a feast for the city...

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