The Golden Scar
The departure from the capital was not a journey of escape but of transit, a sterile corridor leading from the glass towers of the Ministry to the crumbling stone of the wilds, where Inspector Elias Thorne sat in the back of a requisitioned van, his fingers tracing the delicate, translucent petals of a single golden orchid. He was thirty years old, though his biological age, according to the...
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