The Faded Masquerade
"The mask is cracked, Elias," Sir Julian said, his voice a dry rasp that seemed to scrape against the very air of the library, a sound like old parchment tearing in the wind. "You cannot wear a face that does not fit the skull beneath. Take it off before the guests arrive; the deception is becoming grotesque, a vulgar performance in a house that has forgotten how to dream." I looked at him, my...
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