The Golden Mirror

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2026-08-23 08:52:22 -

The Golden Mirror

The weight of the inkstone was considerable, a slab of black basalt that Arthur Vane held in his left hand while his right trembled over the parchment. It was November, 1892, and the air in the Vane manor was thick with the smell of wet wool and the medicinal rot of his father’s lungs. Arthur was twelve, a scribe’s apprentice whose wages were three shillings a week, a sum that barely covered...

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