The Golden Mirror
The spore-dust tasted of copper and old blood. Elias Thorne coughed, a wet, rattling sound that echoed in the subterranean vaults of the Old Kingdom, but he did not stop. He was thirty-two, junior archivist, and his lungs were already failing, a price he was willing to pay for tenure. He needed to catalog the Golden Mirror. It was the only way to prove he belonged here. The air grew thick, a...
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