The Pale Bonsai
Dr. Elias Thorne woke with the taste of iron and old soil on his tongue, the recurring dream of the pale bonsai still clinging to the edges of his consciousness like a damp sheet. He was fifty-two, a scholar of the Court’s hidden histories, and he wanted only to publish his thesis to secure tenure before the Chancellor’s next purge, but the artifact in his study, a twisted tree of white wood...
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