The Golden Scar
The fracture appeared on a Tuesday, a hairline crack in the gold that ran along Kael Ashworth’s sternum. It bled light. In the sterile, humming corridors of the Ministry of Vitality, where the air tasted of ozone and recycled fear, Kael pressed his thumb against the mark. The pain was sharp, a jagged tooth in his chest, signaling the body’s rejection of the state’s synthetic blood. He was...
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