The Faded Masquerade
The ash fell like snow, thick and silent, choking the sky above the Spire. I watched it drift down onto the cobblestones of the plaza, a grey veil settling over the heads of the fleeing citizens, erasing the distinction between the living and the dead. My lungs burned with the taste of sulfur and old dust, a physical weight that pressed against my ribs as I ran. I was not running from the fire,...
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