The Golden Mirror
The brass mirror weighed three pounds, four ounces, and one secret. Elias Thorne counted the stitches in his left sleeve, where the rain had soaked through the wool, each thread a small, cold fact in a world that had become liquid and uncertain. He stood in the courtyard of Blackwood Asylum, the wet cobblestones slick under his boots, the air tasting of wet iron and old paper. He was not here...
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