Demeter knelt in the glass greenhouse, her fingers pressed into warm soil. She watched a seedling wither and brown in her palm. The leaves curled inward like tiny fists. She needed to understand why plants died and how to bring them back. This was her life's work—mastering death and rebirth through her garden. She stood and wiped her hands on her robes. The dead seedling went into a large golden pot near her workbench. Greek patterns spiraled across its surface. Inside, layers of brown leaves and stems already broke down into dark soil. Death fed new life. She pressed the seedling into the mix. Within weeks, the rot would turn to rich earth. That earth would feed the next generation of plants. Demeter moved to the center of the greenhouse where sunlight poured through the glass walls. Gold frames held the panels together. Water trickled down from channels above, feeding rows of plants below. Here she could graft stems from different plants. She could test which combinations survived and which failed. Each attempt taught her something new about how life worked. The Specularia Atrium gave her everything—light, water, and space to experiment. She picked up two cuttings from her bench. One had thick leaves. The other grew thin and fast. She bound them together with careful hands. If this worked, she would create something stronger than either plant alone. The greenhouse held everything she needed. Here, in this place of glass and gold, she would learn the secrets of the cycle. She would watch a thousand plants die. She would bring them back a thousand different ways. This was how she would master rebirth.