The Golden Mirror
The ledger lay open on the desk, its pages swollen with damp, the ink of the last entry bleeding into a black smudge that looked like a bruise. Elias Thorne counted the hours he had spent in the precinct, fourteen in total, each one adding weight to the silence that pressed against the stone walls. He held the tarnished silver mirror in his left hand, its surface cold and heavy, reflecting not...
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