The Faded Masquerade
The mask is heavy. I wear it in the dream. It is made of bone. It smells of old blood. I walk through the city. The streets are wet. The rain is cold. I do not care. I am looking for him. My name is Elias. I am a man who sees the dead. Or at least, I used to be. Now I just see the rot. The city breathes. It is a living thing. It eats the weak. I wake up. The room is dark. The air is stale. I...
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