The Elixir of Professor Vane
I. The laboratory smelled of herbs and old paper and something else—something sweet and metallic, like crushed roses left too long in a sealed jar. Isolde March stood in the doorway and let her eyes adjust to the dim light. Oil lamps burned on every surface, casting long, wavering shadows across shelves packed with leather-bound volumes, glass vials, and bundles of dried plants that hung from...
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