The Golden Greenhouse
Chapter One Why does the gold turn green when the blood leaves the hand? The question hung in the salt-tinged air of the banquet hall, heavy and absurd, as Gustave Thibault stood before the High Auditor, his fingers still stained with the verdant residue of the morning’s failed transmutation. The hall smelled of damp wool and stale tallow, a thick, cloying scent that seemed to cling to the skin...
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