The Golden Mirror
The air in the mill town of Oakhaven hung thick with the scent of wet slate and the sweet, rotting sweetness of overripe apples that had fallen from the orchards bordering the ironworks. It was a Tuesday in late October, the kind of grey, bruised afternoon that seemed to press down upon the shoulders of the inhabitants, weighing them into the cobblestones. In the center of the town square,...
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