The Golden Mirror
The fog did not merely settle upon the Blackwood estate; it inhabited the walls, a damp, gray membrane that pressed against the windowpanes of the attic like the skin of a bruise. Elias Thorne, forty years old and bent by a decade of cataloging the family’s silent history, found the object tucked beneath a moth-eaten tapestry in the corner of the room, a frame of tarnished gold holding a...
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