The Golden Mirror
You stand before the glass, and the glass does not reflect you. This is the first impossibility, the crack in the world’s fabric that you have spent your life ignoring, a subtle wrongness in the way the light bends around your shoulders. It is a cold morning in the high keep of Aethelgard, the air sharp with the scent of pine resin and old stone, and you are holding the mirror with both hands,...
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