The Golden Mirror
You are the one who must find the crack. You know this with the certainty of a stone settling into the riverbed, a truth so deep it has no name, only weight. The air in the corridor is thick with the scent of damp wool and old varnish, a smell that belongs to centuries, not days. You are a boy of sixteen, small for your years, with hands that tremble not from cold but from the sheer, terrifying...
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