The Golden Mirror
The letter lay on the oak desk, its edges yellowed and brittle, the ink faded to a rusty brown that matched the dust motes dancing in the shaft of afternoon light. Elias Thorne, forty-two, senior archivist at the Blackwood Institute, stared at the document until the letters blurred, his thumb rubbing the coarse grain of the wood beneath it. It was a denial of access, signed by his direct...
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