The Golden Mirror
The tincture was gone, and with it, the last thread of logic that held Elias Thorne’s world together. He stood in the center of his late father’s apothecary, the air thick with the scent of dried lavender and old paper, staring at the broken glass on the floorboards. It had been a simple task, a retrieval of evidence, but the vial containing the specific arsenic derivative used in the poisoning...
0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews