The Golden Greenhouse

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2026-08-20 10:13:49 -

The train cut through the grey fog like a blade through wet silk, carrying the scent of stale coal and damp wool, a smell that had become so intimately woven into the fabric of my being that I could no longer distinguish it from the scent of my own skin. I was Colonel Arthur Sterling, or at least I had been, before the world had decided to peel back its skin and reveal the hollow, rotting core...

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