The Golden Mirror
The mirror hung in the center of the High Hall. It was tall. It was thin. It was a blade of glass set in a frame of black wood. No one remembered who had installed it. No one dared ask. The walls were stone. The stone was cold. The air smelled of dust and old blood. Sir Julian stood before it. He was a warrior. He was strong. He was tired. His armor was dented. His sword was dull. He held the...
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