The Golden Mirror
The letter is torn, and the ink is bleeding. "You found it, then," Kaelen said, his voice low and rough, like a stone dragged over gravel. He stood in the doorway of the King’s study, his armor clanking softly with the movement. "You think you are clever, Scribe. You think you are a god." I looked down at the parchment in my hands. It was heavy, wet with the condensation of the room, and the...
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