The Golden Farce

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2026-08-18 02:18:06 -

The Golden Farce

The air in the Hall of Mirrors did not smell of dust or decay, as one might expect in a place that exists between the seams of the world, but rather of ozone and old, dried lavender. I stood before the great glass, my reflection fragmented into a thousand trembling shards, each one holding a slightly different version of my face, and I waited for the Keeper to arrive. We had agreed on this...

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