The Golden Mirror
The scale trembled as Thomas set the brass weights, one by one, against the glass vial of tincture. He counted the coins in his pocket, four silver pennies, the exact price of the last drop of nightshade extract. Outside, the rain hammered the thatched roof of the apothecary, a rhythmic, heavy drumming that made the air inside feel thick and damp. Elara watched his hands. They were steady,...
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