The Faded Shield
The bottle in Elias Thorne’s hand was heavy, filled with a liquid the color of wet slate and smelling faintly of rust and old blood. It was the Ashen Tonic, a compound he had distilled over three nights in his laboratory, intended to cure the moral blindness that had seized the High Council. He stood in the gilded antechamber, the air thick with the scent of beeswax and the metallic tang of...
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