The Faded Masquerade

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2026-08-17 22:09:05 -

The ink began to bleed before the first snow fell. It started as a faint, bruised purple in the corners of the ledger, spreading like a vein beneath the skin. Silas stood in the center of the great hall, the air thick with the scent of damp stone and old parchment. He was a creature of the margins, a figure carved from shadow and silence, known to the estate not by a name but by the function he...

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