The Golden Mirror
You stand before the door of the old customs house, the rain lashing against the stone facade with a violence that feels personal, as if the sky itself is trying to erase the evidence you have come to find. The year is 1893, or perhaps it is a century before that, for time in this valley moves with the sluggish, heavy tread of a dying beast. You are not here to save the world. You are here to...
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