The Golden Quest
The jar was already cracked when Elias found it. A hairline fracture, spiderwebbing through the amber glaze, threatened to undo the vessel’s integrity. He held it in his small, trembling hands, feeling the cold weight of the glass against his palm. It was not a jar of honey, nor of preserves, but of something that smelled of dust and dried lavender and the metallic tang of old pennies. In the...
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