The Golden Scar
"Cut it." The knife hummed. It was a low vibration. A hum that lived in the teeth. I held the blade steady. My hand did not shake. I had trained for this. Seven years of practice. Seven years of silence. "The mark is deep," Elias said. He stood behind me. His shadow fell across the table. It stretched long and thin. "Deeper," I replied. My voice was flat. A wire pulled tight. "You must go...
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