The Golden Mirror
The rain in Oakhaven did not wash things clean; it merely made the grime slicker, turning the cobblestones into black mirrors that reflected nothing but the sky’s bruised underside. Elara Vance stood in the doorway of her family’s apothecary, watching the water bead on the glass of the shopfront. Inside, the air was thick with the scent of dried lavender and old paper, a scent that had once...
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