The Golden Scar
The wall did not breathe. It stood, a slab of cold, unyielding stone in the center of the Room of Records, a monument to a silence that had lasted three centuries. "Look at it," said Kael. His voice was light, almost flippant, a sharp contrast to the heavy, damp air of the basement. "It’s just a wall, Thomas. Why do you stare at it like it owes you money?" Thomas Whitmore did not turn his head....
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