The Golden Mirror
The rain in Vellum City does not wash things clean; it merely makes the grime slicker, turning the cobblestones into mirrors that reflect nothing but the gaslight and the wretchedness of the streets. I am Elias Thorne, a constable of twelve years’ service, and on this particular Tuesday in November, I am standing in the bedroom of Magistrate Aldous Vane, holding a beetle that should not exist....
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