The Golden Mirror
The acoustic dampeners in Room 402 had failed, a fact Elias Thorne noted with the detached precision of a man cataloging his own disintegration. He sat at the steel table, his hands trembling not from fear, but from the primal, instinctual need to protect Clara, his nineteen-year-old daughter, who was currently held in a secure wing three floors above his head. The room was windowless, a...
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