The Wistful Mirror
The glass did not break with a shatter, but with a sigh, a long and weary exhalation that seemed to come from the very marrow of the object itself. It was a piece of heavy, leaded crystal, one of the many mirrors that lined the walls of the Grand Hall at Blackwood Manor, a structure so vast and industrial in its ambition that it felt less like a home and more like a cathedral to the god of...
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