The Faded Masquerade
You stand before the gate of Ashwood, the iron bars cold against your palm, the smell of wet stone and decay hanging heavy in the autumn air. It is a town that does not exist on any map you have ever seen, a place suspended in the mist between centuries, where the old laws still hold sway and the new ones are but whispers carried on the wind. You are a stranger here, an exile from a world that...
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