The Wistful Mirror
The frost came early to the capital. It coated the black iron gates of the Ministry of Cultural Heritage in a lattice of white crystals. Inside, the heating system hummed with a low, industrial drone. It was a sound that never stopped. It was a sound that defined the room. Elias stood before the great mirror. It was a vanity piece from the Victorian era. The glass was thick and slightly warped....
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