The Faded Masquerade

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2026-08-20 09:33:04 -

The coat was red. Not a bright red, but the deep, arterial crimson of a wound that had not yet scabbed over. It hung on the back of a wooden chair in the empty hall, a solitary, burning eye in the gray light of the city. Elara stood before it. She wore a shawl of rough gray wool, tight around her shoulders. Her hands were bare. They trembled. "Take it off," said the man. He did not look at the...

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