The Golden Greenhouse
The air inside the Guild Hall tastes of stale honey and iron. You stand at the center of the long oak table, the weight of the glass vessel in your hands. It is not a simple vase. It is a living thing. The glass is thick, amber-hued, and within its curved belly, a single green vine pulses with a slow, rhythmic light. This is the Golden Greenhouse. It is your masterpiece. It is your life. The...
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