The Distant Clue
The vial was heavy in Elias Vane’s hand, a thick cylinder of dark glass that seemed to drain the warmth from his palm. He stood in the center of the great hall, the floorboards groaning under the weight of the bodies that had been carried in that morning, and he looked at the small, stoppered bottle as if it were a key to a door that did not exist. The air in the room was thick with the smell...
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