The Wistful Mirror

added blog Literature

2026-08-24 08:12:25 -

October 14th. The rotunda smells of damp wool and burnt sugar. I am twelve years old. I stand in the shadow of the chandelier, watching the Master’s guests laugh. They are fat with prosperity. I am thin with hunger. My name is Elias, but here I am just the boy who serves the wine. I want the ring. I want the title. I want to be the heir. The Master, my uncle, looks at me with eyes like flint....

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