The Wistful Mirror
The glass was not broken. It was shattered. The distinction mattered to Elias, though he could not say why. Broken implies a clean fracture. Shattered implies a violence that radiates outward, a splintering of the self. He stood in the center of the room, a vast, circular hall that existed in no map he had ever known. The floor was polished obsidian. The walls were weeping mirrors. He had come...
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