The Distant Threshold
The notice was written in a hand that trembled less than the ink. It read: The solstice fast begins at dawn. No foreign tinctures in the King’s chamber. By order of the High Priest. Imelda Solórzano held the parchment until the paper creased under her thumb. The light in the apothecary was thin, a pale gray sliver cutting through the haze that had swallowed the far shore of the valley. She was...
0 Comments 0 Shares 6 Views 0 Reviews