Somewhere deep in the heart of Downtown, along a lonely alley and up a fire escape that leads to a pivoted rooftop door. Beyond that door lays a sprawling, impossible greenhouse, a jungle of flora and fungi encased in tarnished glass.
Inside, a roving mist hangs heavy, casting ghostly shapes across the greenery. The winding paths lead to a plethora of poisonous plants and fungi, each more captivating and deadly than the last. Delicate yet deadly moonflowers bloom in abundance, their intoxicating fragrance concealing their sinister secret to all but the well trained eye. Pitch-black belladonna berries lie within your reach. Overhead, treacherous vines writhe and twist in a network of deceit, carnivorous plants with serrated leaves and razor-sharp thorns waiting patiently at every turn.
The garden is littered with decaying statues of gargoyles, their grotesque faces peering down with watchful eyes as well as monuments to Athena and her coterie of nymphs. Old mismatched stone and clay pots, glass jars filled with a live toad or snakeskin and other occult sundries lay scattered throughout a small clearing lit by a few tall likely stolen hotel lamps and occasionally flickering florescent tubes that hung suspended all across the greenhouse.