The Golden Scar
Chapter One Waqar Abbasi pressed his thumb into the fractured pane of the atrium, the glass biting through his glove, and felt the building shudder. He needed his pension, the concrete sum that would clear his debt to the repair quota, but the High Commissioner’s voice distorted through the air, accusing him of sabotage before the dust had settled. The Ministry was not a building; it was a...
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