The Golden Quest
The vial is empty, Thomas. You know it is empty." I looked up from the counter, my fingers still wrapped around the glass neck. It was smooth, cold, and slick with the residue of the tincture, a sticky film that felt like dried blood under my nails. I was twelve years old, and my hands had been shaking since dawn, a tremor that started in my shoulders and worked its way down to the tips of my...
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