The Wistful Mirror
The rain did not fall so much as it was forced into the world by a sky that had lost its patience with the silence of the valley, a relentless, gray deluge that turned the cobblestones of Millhaven into a slick, black mirror reflecting the jagged teeth of the surrounding pines, and in the center of this churning, wet world stood Elias Thorne, a man who had spent thirty years mapping the...
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