The Golden Scar
The rain fell in a heavy, rhythmic curtain over the jagged cliffs of the Ashmoor Coast, a relentless gray water that blurred the line between the churning sea below and the storm-battered sky above. Thomas Whitmore stood at the edge of the precipice, his boots sinking slightly into the slick mud, his hand resting on the hilt of a sword that had seen more battles than he could count. He was not...
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