The Wistful Silence

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2026-08-24 10:34:37 -

The rain hammered the slate roof of the apothecary like a fist against a drum. Elias Thorne stood behind the counter, his hands shaking as he ground dried foxglove in a mortar that felt too heavy for his wrists. The storm outside was a living thing, a grey beast thrashing against the windows of Millhaven, but the real violence was the paper on the counter. A decree from the Health Board. Signed...

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