The Golden Mirror
The rain on the roof of St. Jude’s Asylum for the Incurably Dependent was a relentless, grey drumroll. It beat against the slate tiles with a rhythm that matched the thumping in Elias’s chest. He stood at the window of his cell, the glass fogged by the breath of the men inside. To them, he was a ghost. To the world outside, he was a mistake. But inside his own skull, he was the keeper of the...
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