The Faded Root
The iron bands groaned as you pressed your shoulder against the greenhouse door, the cold metal biting into your coat like a vice. You were fifty-two, Elias Thorne, a botanist exiled from the university for heresy, and you stood before the sealed tomb of your family’s legacy with a single, desperate purpose: to harvest the last viable root of the Everlasting Herb. Your daughter, Clara, lay in a...
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