The Golden Greenhouse
The carriage wheels screamed against the cobblestones as we climbed the hill toward the manor, the sound a sharp, metallic shriek that seemed to tear the air open and reveal the gray, indifferent sky above. I did not look at him, not yet, for to look at him was to accept the weight of what I carried, the burden of a debt that had been paid not in coin but in the quiet, steady erosion of my own...
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