The Last Bow of Julian
(V-01: Victorian Melancholy) The gaslights of London flickered like dying stars outside the dressing room of the Lyceum Theatre. Julian stared into the mirror, his reflection a mask of pale perfection. He was the toast of the Empire, the man who could breathe life into Hamlet and Lear with a single tremor of his voice. But inside, he was a hollow shell, haunted by a ghost that had no name, only...
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