The Golden Master
The mirror lies in the center of the room. It is a tall thing, framed in dark oak that has gone soft with age and damp. The glass is clouded at the edges. You stand before it. You are a man of few words and many debts. Your name is Elias Thorne. You have come to this house to find a thief. The client is a child. She sits in the corner, silent as a stone. Her name is Clara. She does not look at...
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