The Golden Mirror
The rain had not stopped for three days, a persistent, gray weeping that turned the cobblestones of the old district into slick, reflective pools where the gas lamps bled their amber light into the wet dark, and you stood at the edge of the throne room, your hands trembling not from the cold, which was a biting, bone-deep chill that seemed to have seeped through the very walls of the castle,...
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