The Wistful Asylum
The steam pipes in the basement of Blackwood Asylum did not merely groan; they screamed, a high-pitched, metallic shriek that vibrated through the soot-choked floorboards and into the marrow of Elias Thorne’s bones. He stood before the pedestal where the Mirror Girl sat, her porcelain face shattered into a constellation of jagged shards, her hollow eyes staring out with a terrible, empty...
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