The Wistful Mirror

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2026-08-23 10:41:35 -

The lead caming bit into Elias Thorne’s thumb, a thin line of red welling against the cold, gritty surface of the glass. He did not flinch. His gaze remained fixed on the central pane of the atrium window, where the figure of a man stood in the leaded grid. The figure was Elias, but wrong. The skin was papery, stretched tight over bones that had aged decades in a matter of seconds. The eyes...

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