The Golden Scar

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2026-08-20 12:56:27 -

The Golden Scar

The banquet hall of the Whitmore estate smelled of roasted lamb and wet wool, a thick, cloying mixture that seemed to settle in your throat with every breath. You sat at the long oak table, your small hands folded neatly in your lap, staring at the golden light that filtered through the tall, leaded windows. It was a beautiful light, the kind that turned dust motes into dancing stars, but it...

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