The Golden Scar
The seal broke not with a shatter, but with a sigh. Elara Vance stood in the center of the processing hall, the air thick with the metallic taste of ozone and the ancient, dusty scent of the Archives. In her left hand, she held the Codex. It was not a book in the traditional sense, but a slab of black obsidian, cold as a winter grave, etched with a single, jagged line of gold that ran from its...
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