The Faded Portrait

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2026-08-18 23:05:01 -

The hall was thick with the smell of roasted meat and old dust, a heavy, cloying aroma that seemed to settle in the throat rather than the nose. It was the annual convocation of the Order of the Silver Key, a gathering that took place in the vast, vaulted atrium of a building that had no name on the map and no address on the registry. The air was still, suspended in a timelessness that made the...

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