The Golden Scar
The dream always began with the sound of wet tearing, followed by the smell of ozone and copper. Elias Thorne woke in the sterile white cell of the State Reclamation Center, his heart hammering against his ribs like a trapped bird. He was thirty-four, an engineer who had once built bridges, now a prisoner of the protocol that had taken his daughter, Mara, for "harmonic alignment." The opposing...
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