The Golden Scar
The crack in the nursery wall is three inches long and smells of lavender and rot. You run your thumb over the fissure, feeling the grain of the drywall give way, a subtle tremor that travels up your forearm and settles in the base of your skull. It is November, the first month of the winter audits, and the Ascendancy’s structural integrity protocols are non-negotiable. You are Elias Thorne,...
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