The Golden Crossing
The vial is sealed with wax the color of dried blood, and the glass is thin enough to see the veins of the liquid inside, which pulses with a slow, rhythmic heat that has nothing to do with the ambient temperature of the room. "You are a fool, Master, and a coward to boot," Thomas said, his voice flat and stripped of all deference, standing by the workbench where the mortar and pestle lay...
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