The Distant Joke

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2026-08-19 23:21:08 -

The Distant Joke

The smell of burnt sugar hung in the air, thick and cloying, like a lie that would not let you breathe. Silas stood at the edge of the obsidian table, his hands trembling as he held the small, iron ladle. The liquid inside the cauldron was not soup, nor stew, but a shimmering, viscous gold that pulsed with a heartbeat of its own. It was the Elixir of Return. Or so the High Justicar had called...

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