The Wistful Campus
The vial is too heavy for your hand, Elias." Lord Vane’s voice was soft, barely rising above the creak of the floorboards beneath the library rug, yet it landed with the weight of a stone dropped into a well. I looked down at the glass in my fingers, the liquid inside a murky, bruised purple that seemed to pulse with a slow, sickly rhythm. I had been standing there for ten minutes, waiting for...
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