The Golden Scar
The sky above the city of Aethelgard did not merely darken; it bled a thick, viscous crimson that pooled in the gutters like congealed blood, signaling the arrival of the Silence, that creeping, absolute quiet that swallowed sound before it swallowed breath. Sir Julian Vane stood at the precipice of the high watchtower, his hands gripping the cold iron of the railing until the metal bit into...
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