The Golden Scar

added blog Literature

2026-08-22 04:11:36 -

The Golden Scar

The gate was iron. Cold. It bit into my palms. I pushed. The rust flaked away like dead skin. My breath came in short, sharp bursts. The air smelled of wet stone and old ash. I had walked for three days. My boots were soaked. My soul was drier. I stood before the House of St. Jude. It loomed against the gray sky. A fortress of shadow. I knocked. No sound. I knocked again. My knuckles bled. A...

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