The Golden Scar
The rain did not fall so much as it was exhaled by the bruised sky, a relentless, gray mist that seeped into the bones of the Keepers who stood watch at the perimeter. Elias Thorne adjusted the collar of his tunic, a garment of heavy, dyed wool that had once been the color of blood but had faded to a dull, rusted brown after decades of service. It was a simple piece of clothing, stripped of...
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