The Wistful Mirror
The Obsidian Mirror stood in the center of the Hall of Echoes, a slab of polished volcanic glass so dark it seemed to drink the candlelight rather than reflect it, and Commander Silas Vane stood before it with the rigid, hollowed posture of a man who had forgotten how to breathe without counting. He was forty-two years old, a veteran of the border skirmishes, and he had been summoned to the...
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