The Faded Masquerade
The rain in the valley of Aethelgard did not fall; it drifted, a grey mist that settled on the shoulders of the traveler and soaked into the weave of his traveling cloak. Elias Thorne walked with the slow, deliberate gait of a man who had long since ceased to fight the gravity of the earth. He was a scholar of the old archives, a keeper of histories that no longer belonged to the living, and...
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