The Golden Greenhouse
The air in the royal workshop tasted of sulfur and old iron, a metallic tang that coated the back of your throat and settled into the pores of your skin as you watched the molten glass stretch under the breath of the bellows. You are Elias, a man of forty-two years whose hands are scarred by heat and whose soul is weighed down by the heavy, invisible chains of the court’s rigid prejudice...
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