The Golden Quest
The vase was blue. Not the bright, sunny blue of a summer sky, but the deep, bruised blue of a midnight ocean. It sat on the mantelpiece, catching the light from the gas lamps, humming with a quiet, dangerous presence. "You're staring at it again, Margaret," my brother Thomas said. He didn't look up from his ledger. The scratching of his quill was the only other sound in the room, a dry,...
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