The Golden Harbor
The mirror was a slab of dark glass, suspended in the attic rafters by three rusted chains. It did not reflect the room. It reflected the past. Or perhaps it reflected a future that had already been eaten by worms. Elias Thorne stood before it. He was old. The years had not been kind to him, nor had they been cruel. They had simply stripped him down to the bone, leaving him as a sketch of the...
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