The Wistful Dinner
The stone floor of the alchemist’s chamber was cold enough to bite through the soles of Elias’s boots, a chill that seemed to rise from the bedrock of the castle itself. He sat hunched over a workbench cluttered with failed distillations and cracked glass, his hands wrapped around a silver circlet that pulsed with a rhythmic, icy vibration. It was not a heartbeat, Elias knew, but a low, humming...
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