The Wistful Silence
The scale trembled, a fine, metallic shudder that Elias Thorne felt in his teeth before he saw it, as the final drop of mercury settled into the glass beaker. He counted the seconds, his breath held tight in his chest, watching the silver liquid coil and uncoil in the murky, violet depths of the nightshade distillate. Three seconds. Four. The Guild’s decree had been pinned to the door of his...
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