The Faded Masquerade
The wind off the coast of Maine did not merely blow; it hunted, carrying with it the salt-spray of a world that had long since ceased to care about the petty boundaries men drew in the dirt. Captain Elias Thorne walked the frozen edge of the road, his boots crunching against the ice with a rhythm that felt less like movement and more like a countdown. He was a man composed of rigid lines and...
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