PREVIEW
... red glass that turned every candleflame into a shard of winter sun. Thin braziers burned with smokeless lavender fire, the scent of damask rose and crushed wormwood coiling in sickly-sweet spirals. At the room's center floated the mercury basin, wide as a table yet held aloft by nothing visible, ripples forming and vanishing without cause. The surface answered only to the magister's will.
He stood at its rim in full ceremonial black, the silk so dark it seemed to drink the torchlight, le ...
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