The Faded Masquerade

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2026-08-20 16:04:30 -

The dream was always of glass. Not the clear, cold kind that holds the world in check, but a thick, amber substance that smelled of old honey and woodsmoke. It hung in the air, suspended like a breath held too long, waiting to shatter. Elara woke with the taste of it on her tongue, a cloying sweetness that turned to ash. She was lying in a cart, the jolting of the wheels a dull, rhythmic pain...

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