The Golden Scar
The air in the apothecary’s back room tasted of sulfur and stale copper, a pungent reminder that Elias Thorne was not merely a man who mixed tinctures but a man who had stepped beyond the pale of sanctioned medicine into the forbidden territories of alchemical transmutation. He stood over the iron stove, his hands trembling not from fear but from the sheer, vibrating intensity of his purpose,...
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