The Faded Masquerade
The hammer strikes the bone before you have time to blink, and the sound is not the dull thud of wood against wood but the wet, heavy crack of a seal breaking on a vessel that has been underwater for a thousand years. You are standing in the center of the great hall of your own estate, a place that smells of damp limestone and old blood, and the figure before you is not a man but a shifting...
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