The Golden Mirror
The rain hammered against the high, arched windows of the Institute for Ethical Inquiry, a relentless, staccato rhythm that drowned out the hum of the servers below. Elias Thorne stood in the center of the archive, his back to the heavy oak door. He was a man carved from patience and ink, his white hair swept back from a face that had long ago ceased to flinch at cruelty. In his hands, he held...
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