The Wistful Saga
The glass broke not with a sharp, piercing shriek, but with a dull, wet thud, like a ripe fruit falling into deep mud, and the sound was so immediate and absolute that it seemed to suck the air out of the cramped, dimly lit cellar where Elias stood. He did not flinch; he simply watched the shards of the mirror, the one that had been his only companion for three years of exile, scatter across...
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