The Pale Bonsai
The steel shears slipped, biting into the dark earth with a sound like a knuckle cracking, and you watched the black sap well up, thick and viscous, smelling faintly of the fever you had broken in your fourth year, a scent that had no business existing in the damp, fungal-stained cellar of the guildhall where the winter audits were already beginning to loom like a storm front over the city....
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