The Golden Greenhouse
The jar was green. Not the green of grass, nor the green of sea, but a thick, opaque jade that swallowed the light and held it. I held it against my chest. My heart beat against the glass. Thump. Thump. The air in the village square was thin. It tasted of ash and iron. They came for me at dawn. The magistrate’s men. Their boots clicked on the cobblestones. A dry, rhythmic sound. Like bone on...
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