The Golden Scar

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2026-08-20 19:22:24 -

The Golden Scar

The banquet hall smelled of ozone and stale lilies. It was a scent that clung to the back of the throat, thick and cloying. Elias sat at the far end of the long, obsidian table. His hands were still. They were always still. He wore the gray tunic of the Low. It was a rough, scratchy fabric. It scratched his skin. He did not move. He did not blink. Around him, the High feasted. They ate from...

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