The Golden Greenhouse
Elias, get out of here before you break another pane. Mr. Thorne’s voice cracked through the humid air of the Golden Greenhouse like a whip, sharp and final. I froze, my hands still slick with the condensation that had dripped from the iron framework. The silence that followed was not empty; it was heavy, filled with the low, groaning creak of the metal as the morning sun began to heat the...
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