The Faded Masquerade
The gas lamps of Mayfair flickered like dying stars as Eleanor Vane stepped beneath the archway of Blackwood Manor, her velvet cloak drawn tight against the November chill. She had not planned to come here—to this crumbling estate on the edge of the city where the fog clung to the cobblestones like a secret unwilling to be told. But the letter had arrived three days prior, sealed with wax the...
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