The Golden Song
The fracture was not an accident but a recalibration, a sudden and violent correction of frequency that rippled through the sterile white void where Julian stood. He held the object in his hands, a device of seamless obsidian and brushed titanium, warm to the touch and humming with a low, subsonic thrum that he could feel in the marrow of his bones. It was a mirror, though not of glass, but of...
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