The Pale Tale
The chandelier shatters. That is the first thing you notice. Not the scream, not the crash of glass raining down onto the marble floor, but the sudden, blinding absence of light. You stand in the center of the Grand Ballroom, your chest heaving, the echo of the impact still ringing in your ears. Around you, the elite of the city freeze in suspended animation, their faces masks of horror and...
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