The Pale Echo
"You did it again," the voice said. It was not a shout, but a whisper that carried the weight of a stone dropped into a deep well. "The wards are broken. The mirror is cracked." I looked up from the floor where I had been kneeling, my knees aching from the cold stone. The room was vast, a circular chamber deep within the palace that smelled of old paper and ozone. Dust motes danced in the...
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