The Golden Echoes
The cold in the cellar was a physical weight, pressing against Elias’s shoulders as he held the vial up to the single, flickering gaslight. "You are certain of this?" the voice from the shadows asked, low and textured like dry leaves scraping over stone. Elias did not look up. He was watching the liquid inside the glass, a pale gold that seemed to move against the current of the gravity in the...
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