The Golden Greenhouse
The rain in Oakhaven did not fall so much as it settled, a persistent, damp weight that seeped into the mortar of the stone cottages and the very bones of the people who lived there. Elias Thorne, the village archivist, stood before the Great Greenhouse, his hands trembling not from the cold, but from the rhythmic, low thrumming that had begun to vibrate through the soles of his boots. The...
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