The Pale Door

added blog Literature

2026-08-18 07:50:28 -

The Pale Door

The vial shattered on the steel floor. Not with a crash. With a hiss. A thin, white mist. It smelled of copper. Of old blood. I did not flinch. I had trained my body to remain still. To observe. To record. The Institute of Applied Alchemy was not a place of magic. It was a place of industry. Smokestacks choked the sky outside the high, barred windows. Inside, the air was sterile. Cold. My name...

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