The Golden Scar
The ink on the parchment was still wet, a black smear that threatened to bleed through the thin paper as Elias Thorne pressed his thumb against the seal, his fingers trembling not from the cold but from the sheer, viscous weight of the air around him. He was thirty-four years old, a Sergeant in the Iron Ward’s Enforcement Corps, and he carried within the folds of his tunic the heavy,...
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