The Golden Mirror

added blog Literature

2026-08-25 08:03:35 -

The Golden Mirror

The letter was thin, the paper cheap and grey, smelling of damp cellar stone. Arthur Vane smoothed it against the back of his hand, feeling the grit of the train seat beneath his knuckles. He had forged it in a back room in Leeds, three nights ago, using ink that smelled of iron and time. It was a pardon, or so the header claimed, signed by a magistrate who had been dead for six years. It was a...

0 Comments 0 Shares 2 Views 0 Reviews