The Golden Scar
The ledger lay open on the damp stone floor of the cellar, its pages swollen with the humidity that seeped up from the earth. Elias Thorne held a pencil, the graphite tip trembling slightly as he tried to calculate the cost of the foundation repair, a sum that would exceed his entire annual wage by a factor of three. He was a groundskeeper, a man whose hands were permanently stained with loam...
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