The Golden Scar
The taste of iron floods your mouth. You bite down on the gold leaf. It shatters. It is not a leaf. It is a tooth. Your own. You spit it into the dust of the throne room floor. The floor is marble. White. Cold. It smells of lemon oil and old blood. You are bleeding. The blood is red. The gold is yellow. The contrast is ugly. It is beautiful. The King sits above you. He does not look at you. He...
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