The Golden Mirror
The vault was a tomb of controlled silence, a climate-sealed chamber where the air was scrubbed of humidity and the light was calibrated to a precise, sterile 50 lux. Elias Thorne sat alone in the center of this hermetically sealed room, his fingers hovering over the haptic interface that displayed the spectral analysis of the gold mirror resting on the pedestal before him. He was twenty-four,...
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