The Golden Mirror
You are standing in the shadow of the old mill. The stone is cold against your hand. It has been cold for a century. You have come to find the mirror. Or perhaps you have come to prove it does not exist. The wind howls through the broken slits of the upper window. It sounds like a voice calling your name. You do not answer. You are not here to speak. You are here to see. The village below is a...
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