The Golden Mirror

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2026-08-20 09:23:36 -

The Golden Mirror

The smell is copper. Old blood. Rusted hinges. You know the taste. You have known it since the war. It sits at the back of your throat. It does not leave. You are in the cellar. The air is thick. It presses against your skin. You breathe. It is hard work. Your lungs burn. You are a tinker. You fix things. Pots. Pans. Cracked mirrors. You are not a mage. You are not a healer. You are a man with...

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