The Wistful Mirror
The tumbler bit into the glass with a sound like a dry bone snapping, and Elias Vane did not flinch, for his hands were steady even as the soot of the Meridian Glassworks settled into the creases of his knuckles. He was twelve years old, a scrawny thing of sharp elbows and pale eyes, standing before the unpolished pane that Master Halloway called the Wistful Mirror, though in the ledgers it was...
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