The Golden Greenhouse

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2026-08-22 11:35:01 -

The feast began with the sound of grinding teeth, a low, tectonic hum that rose from the polished obsidian floor of the Hall of Mirrors. I sat at the far end of the table, my hands clasped tightly in my lap, the knuckles white and trembling. The air was thick with the scent of ozone and burnt sugar, a cloying sweetness that coated the back of my throat. Around me, the guests moved in a silent,...

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