The Faded Ruin

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2026-08-19 05:20:54 -

The Faded Ruin

The banquet hall of the Whitmore estate smelled of roasted pheasant and the sharp, metallic tang of ozone that had settled over the valley since the sky turned a bruised purple. It was a heavy scent, thick enough to chew, clogging the throat with the promise of a storm that refused to break. I stood at the edge of the room, my uniform pressed to a mirror shine, the brass buttons catching the...

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