The Golden Echoes
The frost had settled on the windowpanes of the Hall in a delicate, intricate lattice, a web of white that seemed to hold the dark world outside at bay. I stood before the mirror, adjusting the collar of my uniform, the fabric stiff against my neck. My reflection stared back, hollow-eyed, the same face that had served the Whitmore estate for twenty years without complaint. The room was silent,...
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