The Faded Masquerade

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2026-08-18 06:30:42 -

The bread is sour. It is a sharp, acidic bite that wakes the tongue. You are the Keeper of the Granary. Your hands are thick with flour, a white dust that settles into the creases of your knuckles, mapping your labor in fine lines. The village of Oakhaven sits below the hill, shrouded in the grey mist of early morning. The bells have not rung. The silence is heavy, pressing against your...

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