The Golden Scar
The road to the Citadel of Ash was not a road at all, but a vein of grey stone exposed by centuries of wind and rain, cutting through the barren moor like a scar that refused to heal. I walked it with my head down, my boots heavy with the red mud that clung to the soles of my life, and I carried nothing but the silence that lived inside my chest. It was a silence so deep it had a texture, rough...
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