The Golden Greenhouse
The champagne flutes in Elias Thorne’s hand were not merely glass; they were the crystalline vessels of a legacy he had spent two decades preserving, each bubble rising with the same slow, deliberate precision he applied to the cataloging of the Ministry’s vast, silent collections. He stood at the center of the gala, the air thick with the scent of beeswax candles and the metallic tang of old...
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