The Golden Mirror
The summons lay on the obsidian table, its edges sharp enough to cut the skin of my thumb if I pressed too hard. It was a standard order, the ink black and dry, but the weight of it was not in the paper but in the silence that followed its arrival. I am Elias Thorne, twelve years old, and for the last three years I have worked as an apprentice archivist in the Sovereign’s Court, a place where...
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