The Golden Mirror
The air in the basement of the City Archive tasted of ozone and old paper, a dry, electric hum that vibrated in my teeth as I pressed my forehead against the cold concrete, trying to steady the trembling of my hands. I was Elias Thorne, forty-two years old, a detective who had spent two decades chasing shadows, and now I was trapped in this sealed, subterranean vault with only three hours left...
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