The Golden Mirror

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2026-08-18 20:38:56 -

The Golden Mirror

The glass was cold against my palm, a slab of polished obsidian that reflected not my face, but the dust motes dancing in the sterile light of the holding room. I sat on the metal chair, the springs digging into my spine, and watched the reflection shimmer. It was a trick of the light, or perhaps a trick of my exhaustion, but the face looking back seemed older than mine, etched with lines of...

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