The Golden Scar
The inspection of the perimeter walls was not a task of mere observation but a ritual of endurance, a slow grinding down of the self against the unyielding granite of the state, and I stood there in the grey, rain-slicked courtyard of the Ministry of Continuity, watching the junior clerk, Elias Thorne, press his palm against the cold stone as if seeking a pulse in the rock itself, his face a...
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