The Golden Mirror
The hand moved with a tremor that Elias Thorne could no longer ignore, fingers slick with sweat as he turned the brass key in the drawer of his desk. He was fifty-eight, and the joint in his right index finger had begun to swell like a knuckle of old oak, a physical reminder that the body was a failing machine. For twenty years, he had chased the truth of Silas Vane’s disappearance in 1998, a...
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