The Wistful Mirror
The glass did not reflect Elias Thorne. It reflected a man with hollow cheeks and eyes that burned with a cold, acquisitive hunger. Elias stood in the center of his workshop in London, the year 1348, the air thick with the smell of sulfur and rotting meat. He was thirty-two, a master glazier whose hands were stained permanently with lead and pigment, but his soul, as the uncanny pane suggested,...
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