The Golden Mirror
The banquet hall of the Under-Root was a cathedral of mold and luminescence, where the air tasted of wet copper and crushed violets, and the tables stretched out into a darkness so profound it felt less like an absence of light and more like a heavy, velvet hand pressing against the eyes. Leo, whose boots were caked in the red clay of the surface world, sat at the end of the long, warped oak...
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