The Golden Scar
The bell tolled. It was a low, bronze sound that seemed to vibrate in the marrow of Elara’s bones. She stood at the edge of the high gallery, her hand resting on the cold iron railing. Below, the courtyard was empty. The snow had stopped, leaving a pristine, blinding white canvas that swallowed the dark stone of the Academy walls. She held the object in her pocket. It was heavy. It was warm....
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