The Golden Scar
The porcelain teacup sat on the mantelpiece, whole and white, a perfect circle of bone china that had never known the kiss of a chipped rim or the stain of old tea, yet to Elias Thorne it was the most fractured thing he had ever seen, a vessel of absolute wholeness that screamed of its own impossibility in a world that had broken him to powder and forced him to be swept into the gutter of a...
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