The Golden Scar

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2026-08-24 13:18:51 -

The Golden Scar

The ledger in Silas’s office smelled of stale tobacco and wet wool, the ink on the page still wet, black as a bruise, and I counted the hours I had worked in the deep shafts since my father’s lungs gave out three winters ago: four thousand, two hundred, and twelve, a number that weighed heavier in my mind than the coal dust packed into my teeth. I was fourteen, and my hands were already mapped...

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