The Golden Scar
The feast was loud. It was too loud. The noise battered against the walls of the Great Hall, a physical weight that pressed against my eardrums. I sat at the edge of the long table. My hands were folded. I kept them still. I needed them to be still. Across the table, the High Warden ate. He chewed slowly. He smiled at me. It was a thin smile. It did not reach his eyes. "Look at you, Thomas," he...
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