The Golden Greenhouse
You wake in the damp earth, the smell of rot and pine resin heavy in your throat. You are the Keeper. This is not a title you chose, but a weight that settled onto your shoulders the day your father died, his hands still curled around the iron trowel, his eyes fixed on a point beyond the roof beams. The village of Oakhaven lies below you, a tapestry of slate and stone wrapped in the gray mist...
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