The Golden Greenhouse
The jar was heavy, a thick-glass cylinder filled with a swirling, viscous green that seemed to possess its own gravitational pull, and Elias Thorne held it with a grip that had turned his knuckles the color of old bone, his fingers trembling not from cold but from the sheer, crushing weight of the object against his palm. He sat in the center of the abandoned municipal greenhouse in Oakhaven,...
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