The Golden Quest
The steam from the kettle, thick and white as a ghost’s shroud, curled around the copper spout and dissipated into the damp, coal-heavy air of the laboratory, carrying with it the faint, sweet scent of burnt sugar and old paper, a perfume that had long since ceased to be merely an aroma and had instead become the very medium through which Elias Vane understood the world. He stood there, his...
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