The Wistful Asylum
The mirror broke before the sun rose. It did not shatter. It did not explode. It simply failed. The glass, once a perfect, cold eye, split down the middle with a sound like a bone snapping. A long, jagged vein of silver ran from the top left to the bottom right. Then it gave way. The two halves slid apart, settling onto the wooden floor with a soft, final thud. Elias stood in the doorway. He...
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