The Golden Scar

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2026-08-23 20:28:44 -

The Golden Scar

I dreamed of gears turning in the dark, grinding against each other with a sound like teeth. I woke with the taste of iron in my mouth and the cold weight of a vial in my hand. It was filled with chronite, a pale, viscous liquid that pulsed with a faint, sickly light. Outside my window, the smog of Oakhaven hung low, thick as wool, choking the streetlamps into dim orange eyes. The city was...

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