The Golden Scar
The smoke in Oakhaven tastes of rust and burnt sugar. You are Elias Thorne, thirty-four, and your lungs ache with the effort of breathing air that has been filtered through too many industrial vats. You want to reach the border by nightfall. You want to be gone before the curfew bells ring, before the State decides you are no longer useful. The opposing force is the new Purity Law, a decree...
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