The Golden Scar
The gold brooch hummed against Elias Vane’s chest, a low, persistent vibration that felt less like metal and more like a second heartbeat. He stood in the doorway of Blackwood Manor, the rain slicking his trench coat, watching the mud swallow the tracks of his car. The house loomed before him, a rotting Victorian skeleton against the grey sky of 1924, its windows dark and accusatory. Elias...
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