The Wistful Mirror
The concrete dust tasted of iron and old blood. Elias Thorne stood in the center of what had been his apartment, a thirty-four-year-old structural engineer whose career had just been rendered into powder and rebar. He clutched a cracked bronze mirror to his chest, its surface dark and still. Three days. That was all the mirror showed him: the date of Mara’s death, etched in the distortion of...
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