The Golden Mirror
The silence in the study was not empty; it was a heavy, velvet curtain drawn tight against the window, suffocating the air with the scent of old paper and the sharp, metallic tang of your own fear. You sat in the high-backed leather chair, the leather creaking softly under your weight, and held the small, rectangular mirror in your hands. It was a plain thing, unadorned, its surface a perfect,...
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