The Pale Letter
The mirror cracked down the middle. It was not a violent shattering, but a slow, spidered fracture that began at the glass’s center and radiated outward like veins in a leaf. I stood before it, my uniform crisp, the brass buttons polished to a blinding shine. My reflection stared back, distorted, fractured into two halves. One side showed a man of command, stern and unyielding. The other showed...
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