The Golden Farce
The mirror in the dressing room of the Grand Theatre did not reflect light so much as it absorbed it, a dark, obsidian pool that held the face of Elias Thorne in a suspension of terrifying stillness. He stood before it, his hands trembling not with fear but with the precise, clinical agitation of a man who has just discovered a fault in his own calibration, and the single item of clothing that...
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