The Faded Masquerade
The ink on the seal was red, a garnet so deep it looked like dried blood, and it was the only thing in the keep that had not faded. I held the wax tablet in my hands, the cold metal biting into my palms, and watched the emblem of the Court of Whispers slowly lose its luster. It was a mask, half-smiling, half-screaming, pressed into the heart of the empire’s authority. For ten years, I had been...
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