The Golden Mirror
The fog in the Blackfriars warehouse did not merely obscure the world; it seemed to consume the light, swallowing the gray brickwork and the rusted iron beams until Elara Vane was left suspended in a void that smelled of damp wool and decaying paper. It was November of 1924, and Elara, thirty-two years old with a spine straightened by decades of archiving and a mind sharpened by the anxiety of...
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