The Pale Garden
The vial shattered against the porcelain sink, sending shards of glass and a pungent, sweet-smelling liquid across the stainless steel. Elara Vance did not flinch. She was thirty-two, her hands stained permanently yellow from the tinctures she mixed, and the promotion to Head Chemist at the Thorne Pharmaceutical Works hung in the air like a heavy, suffocating scent. Her mentor, old Mr....
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