The Faded Bouquet
The rain did not fall so much as it invaded, a relentless, grey curtain that turned the cobblestones of Blackwood Hollow into slick, treacherous mirrors reflecting the jagged, lightning-scarred sky above, and within the damp, stone-walled sanctuary of the apothecary’s tower room, Elias Thorne stood with his back rigid against the cold hearth, his fingers trembling not from the chill that seeped...
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