The Pale Bonsai
The first thing you notice is the smell, a sharp, metallic tang that clings to the back of your throat like a bad penny, mixed with the sterile, ozone scent of the polished obsidian floor. You are holding the brass key in your right hand, and it is warm, vibrating with a low-frequency hum that you feel in your teeth more than you hear. Your left hand is pressed against the doorframe, your...
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