The Faded Sutra
The vial was the size of a thumb, thick glass, filled with a liquid the color of old blood. Elias held it up to the light of the single tallow candle, watching the surface ripple as his hand trembled. It was a small shake, barely a flutter, but in the silence of the apothecary’s workroom, it sounded like a crack in a foundation. He was forty-five, and his body was beginning to betray him, a...
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