The Faded Bouquet

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2026-08-19 15:44:30 -

The Faded Bouquet

The air in the apothecary was thick with the scent of dried lavender and rotting wood, a perfume that Elara had come to associate with the slow, creeping decay of her own hands. She stood before the brass mirror, her reflection pale and thin as parchment, the veins in her temples standing out like dark rivers on a map of a dying land. The clock on the mantelpiece, a heavy thing of oak and iron...

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