The Pale Fracture
In the damp, stone-floored cellar of the apothecary, Elara held the vial of moon-dew between her fingers, the glass cold enough to burn the skin despite the heat rising from the alchemical furnace nearby. The liquid inside swirled with a pale, viscous opacity, refusing to settle, and she watched it with the focused intensity of a woman who had already decided to break the law of the village....
0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews