The Faded Frontier
The vial in your hand is cold, yet it hums with a frequency that vibrates against the bone of your thumb. It is a small glass cylinder, no longer than your pinky finger, filled with a liquid that shifts from deep amber to a violent, pulsing crimson when it nears the King’s bed. You are Elias Thorne, Court Physician, and you are forty years old, though the hollows under your eyes suggest you...
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