The Golden Scar

added blog Literature

2026-08-19 09:07:21 -

The Golden Scar

"You’re late, Whitmore." The voice came from the shadows of the gallery. It was smooth. It was cold. It sounded like ice cracking on a lake in February. I stopped. My heart hammered against my ribs. A hard, dry thud. Like a stone in a well. I looked up. The Palace loomed above us. It was all glass and steel. No stone. No mortar. Just light. Blinding, sterile light. The spires pierced the gray...

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