The Faded Masquerade
The rain did not fall so much as it hung in the air, a suspended grey veil that blurred the edges of the world and turned the cobblestones of the old town into a mirror of shattered reflections, where Eamon Vane stood with his back against the cold, damp stone of the alleyway, feeling the weight of his inheritance pressing against his spine like a physical bruise. He was a man who had built his...
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