The Golden Scar
The feast was a wound in the dark. It lay upon the long table of the town hall, a sprawling, glistening expanse of roasted fowl, heavy breads, and wheels of pale cheese, all steaming under the low, amber light of the oil lamps. You stood at the periphery, your hands clasped behind your back, watching the townspeople of Oakhaven devour the bounty with a hunger that felt less like appetite and...
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