The Golden Mirror

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2026-08-19 03:11:51 -

The Golden Mirror

The ink is wet. It glistens like a bruise under the tallow flame. You hold the quill. Your hand shakes. You are in the scriptorium. The air smells of damp wool and old parchment. Outside, the rain hammers the stone. You are alone. Or you think you are. You look at the page. It is blank. It is a mirror. It shows you nothing. It shows you everything. You are tired. Your bones ache. You have been...

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