The Golden Mirror
"Do you hear that, Elara? The ticking? It’s not the clock. It’s the glass." I set down my pen and looked at Dr. Thorne, who stood in the doorway of the vault, his shadow stretching long and thin across the stone floor. He was smiling, that tight, professional smile he wore when he wanted to seem benevolent while dismantling my confidence. I was thirty-two years old, and I had spent the last...
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