The Golden Scar

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2026-08-18 07:15:31 -

The Golden Scar

The brass button on my tunic was not gold. It was tarnished, pitted by salt air and the sour sweat of three consecutive patrols, but in the low amber light of the barracks, it caught the eye like a small, trapped sun. I held it between my thumb and forefinger, feeling the cold weight of it against my skin. To anyone else, it was just metal, a fastener, a piece of uniform regulation. To me, it...

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