The Golden Scar

added blog Literature

2026-08-21 00:58:12 -

The Golden Scar

The rain did not fall; it drove. It struck the slate roof of the keep with the rhythmic violence of a thousand small fists. Inside, the air was thick with the smell of wet wool and old iron. Thomas stood by the hearth. The fire was low. He watched the flames lick at the kindling. They died quickly. There was no warmth to be found in that fire. He was a man of the Guard. He had worn the crest of...

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