The Wistful Mirror

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2026-08-19 20:43:49 -

The air in the vault is thick. It smells of copper and old sweat. You grip the handle of the silver mirror. It is heavy. It is warm. Your knuckles are white. You are not a thief. You are not a killer. You are a son. You are a prisoner. The bars are not iron. They are the eyes of the man standing before you. He is tall. He wears a coat of deep grey wool. His face is a map of scars you cannot...

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