The Golden Mirror
The first page took four hours to copy. Arthur Vane sat at the oak table, the wood cold against his shins, and counted the strokes of his pen. One, two, three. The ink in the well was black, but the ink on the page was red. It moved. Not like water, but like something alive, spreading across the parchment in slow, deliberate tendrils. Arthur wiped his hand on his trousers. The stain remained....
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