The Golden Scar
The cart rattled over the cobblestones, a wooden tongue clicking against the stone, marking the rhythm of her departure. Elara watched the town of Oakhaven shrink behind her, a gray smear in the mist. She carried no box, no bag, only the heavy, iron-shackled wrist that was her own. She was the Architect’s shadow, the woman who had measured the lines of the city’s soul and found them wanting. Or...
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