The Pale Bonsai
The air in the Oakhaven Guild Hall smelled of damp wool and the metallic tang of ambition. Twelve-year-old Elias Thorne stood at the back of the room, his fingers white-knuckled around the rim of his father’s old hat, watching the judges inspect the rows of potted shrubs. He wanted the Bonsai Prize. He wanted it with a hunger that felt like a physical ache in his chest, a need to prove he was...
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