The Golden Harbor
The glass vial shattered against the stone floor, spraying black liquid across the cellar tiles. Elias wiped his hands on his apron, the smell of sulfur thick in his throat. He looked at Thomas, who stood frozen in the drafty dark, his face pale as the lye soap they used for washing linen. The Abbot’s boots clicked on the stairs. Elias did not turn. He knew the sound of that leather, the heavy,...
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