The Golden Scar
The dust in the conservation lab did not settle; it hung in the stale, recycled air like a suspended judgment. Elias Vance wiped his spectacles with a cloth that had long since lost its crispness, his eyes stinging from the prolonged exposure to the ultraviolet lamps. He was a man of precise measurements and quiet habits, a scholar who had traded the tumult of the university lecture hall for...
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