The Golden Mirror
The note was written in a hand that shook, the ink blotted where the pen had hovered too long over the paper. "I have gone to find the cure. Do not look for me. I have done everything I could." Arthur Vane stood in the center of the living room, the paper trembling in his fingers, while the air around him tasted of stale tobacco and the metallic tang of his own blood. The gold-plated mirror lay...
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