The Faded Masquerade

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2026-08-17 10:59:50 -

The feast was loud. Too loud. The wine sloshed against the rim of my clay cup, dark and sweet and tasting of iron. I drank it down. It burned a hole in my throat. I kept my eyes on the floorboards. They were worn smooth by centuries of feet. My feet. I had walked them until the wood wore thin. I am a ghost in a body that no longer fits. Or perhaps the body is the ghost. It does not matter. The...

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