The Faded Bouquet

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2026-08-21 00:58:03 -

The Faded Bouquet

The air in the workshop of Elias Thorne did not smell of lilies, but of sulfur and wet iron, a pungent alchemy that clung to the throat and refused to be dislodged by the drafty windows that looked out upon the grey, soot-stained streets of Oakhaven. Elias stood before the large glass bell jar that dominated the center of the room, his hands trembling not from fear, but from the precise,...

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