The Wistful Mirror
The tremor in your right hand is no longer a secret; it is a fact as undeniable as the weight of the lead cames in your lap. You are Elias, fifty-two years old, and the master glazier of the High Cathedral, a title that once carried the weight of stone and now feels like a shackle made of rust. You want to finish the central rose window before the tremor becomes a seizure, before the glass...
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