The Golden Scar
The light was not warm. It was heavy. I woke to the weight of it pressing against my eyelids, a dense, golden viscosity that defied the physics I had spent a decade mastering. I sat up, my heart hammering against my ribs, and looked at the wall. The plaster was glowing, not from the sun, which was blocked by the thick cloud cover, but from within. The light pulsed, slow and rhythmic, like a...
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