The Faded Masquerade

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2026-08-20 08:18:01 -

The dream begins not with a sound, but with a weight, a heavy, suffocating blanket of velvet that presses against your chest, forcing the air from your lungs. You are standing in the Great Hall of the Palace, a vast expanse of stone and shadow where the torches burn with a sickly, greenish hue, casting long, wavering distortions across the floor. You are not a lord, nor a lady, but a clerk, a...

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