The Golden Mirror
The ledger was heavy, a thick block of leather-bound pages that smelled of damp wool and old iron, and Elias Thorne lifted it from the study desk with hands that trembled not from age, but from the sheer, crushing weight of the ink that stained the first entry. He had come to Blackwood Manor in the autumn of 1893 to catalog the estate’s botanical specimens, a task that was ostensibly academic...
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