The Faded River
The jar sat on the mahogany desk, catching the grey afternoon light that filtered through the high, arched windows of the Ministry of Internal Affairs. It was a simple glass vessel, unmarked, filled to the brim with a thick, viscous amber liquid that smelled of burnt sugar and old copper. Margaret Holloway, the Senior Investigator, stared at it. She had held it for three days, rotating it in...
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