The Golden Scar
The seal on the envelope was broken, the wax cracked and smeared across Elias Thorne’s thumb as he peeled it back, the friction rough against skin that had been dry for weeks. He stood in the hallway of the estate, the air thick with the smell of damp rot and something sweeter, cloying, like overripe fruit left in a closed room. Behind him, the heavy oak door groaned as it settled, sealing the...
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