The Faded Masquerade

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2026-08-20 15:25:19 -

The rain had not stopped for three days, a relentless, gray curtain that turned the cobblestones of the old quarter into slick, black mirrors reflecting the gaslight in fractured, trembling pools, and Elias Thorne stood at the center of this wet, weeping square, his hand resting on the hilt of a sword that had not tasted blood in a decade, the leather grip worn smooth by the sweat of a thousand...

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