The Distant Journey
"The coin is not enough," the apothecary said, his fingers hovering over the red vial as if it were a live beetle. "Your father’s debt is three pounds, and you have sixpence. Put it back, boy." Elias, twelve years old and thin as a wire, did not put it back. He held the vial in his palm, feeling the faint, irritating hum against his skin, a vibration like a trapped fly. The shop smelled of...
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