The Golden Greenhouse
The air in the basement of the Kael outpost smells of damp stone and old rust, a scent that has seeped into the fibers of your wool coat and the bones of your forty-two-year-old body, settling there like a second skin you can no longer peel away. You sit on a crate of confiscated contraband, your hands wrapped around a cold cup of tea that has long since lost its heat, while the silence above...
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