The Golden Greenhouse
The banquet hall was not a room in the traditional sense, but a sprawling, breathless expanse of polished obsidian that stretched out into a foggy, violet horizon where the sky seemed to hang low and heavy, like wet wool. It was a celebration of the Guild’s ascension, a night where the air tasted of ozone and expensive perfume, and the floor hummed with the subterranean vibration of a machine...
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