The Golden Mirror
The ink on the execution order is still wet when you read it. Lord Vane does not shout. He whispers, his voice dry as the dust in your archive, as he signs the name of your brother, Thomas. He smiles. It is a thin, polite smile, the kind a man wears when he has already decided you are nothing more than a stain to be wiped away. He claims Thomas stole the Crown’s Heart, a jewel of such power...
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