The Golden Scar
The air in the Citadel of Ashworth tasted of iron and old blood, a metallic tang that coated the back of Kaelen’s throat as he drove his sword through the guard’s chest. It was not a clean act; it was the grinding of bone against steel, the wet tear of viscera, the sudden, heavy silence that followed the scream. Kaelen stood in the center of the Grand Hall, his breathing ragged, his armor...
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