The Golden Scar
The road to the village of Oakhaven was not a path so much as a suggestion of movement through the heavy, amber-hued mist that clung to the valley floor like a burial shroud, and Elias Thorne walked upon it with the steady, rhythmic cadence of a man who had long since ceased to ask why his feet moved forward, for the question itself had become a weight heavier than the iron-bound chest he...
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