The Golden Scar

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2026-08-19 10:09:03 -

The Golden Scar

The air in the Refectory tasted of copper and stale yeast, a thick, suffocating haze that clung to the back of the throat like a second skin. I sat at the long oak table, my hands resting flat on the rough-hewn wood, feeling the grain bite into my palms, while the great chandelier above flickered with the unstable hum of the city’s central grid. Around me, the officers ate in a silence that was...

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