The Faded Chronicle
The mirror cracked. Not shattered. Cracked. A single, jagged vein running from the top left to the bottom right. Like a river on a map. Or a scar. I looked at it. The glass did not break. It held. But the image did not. My face was split. Left side, I was young. Right side, I was old. Or perhaps it was the other way around. The light was bad. The room was dark. The stone walls were cold. This...
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