The Golden Mirror
The mirror in the attic of the Blackwood estate was not merely a piece of furniture; it was a boundary, a thin membrane separating the visible world from the one that hummed beneath the floorboards. You stood before it, your breath fogging the glass, and watched the fog clear to reveal not your face, but a void. The air in the room was stale, thick with the scent of old dust and the faint,...
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