The Golden Mirror
The hammer of the Webley pistol struck the center of the glass with a sound like a bone snapping in a quiet room, and then the steel disintegrated into a cloud of orange rust that settled on the marble floor. Elias Thorne stood in the gilded throne room, his hands empty and trembling, the service weapon he had carried for twenty-two years reduced to a pile of flakes on the ancient stone. The...
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