The Faded Masquerade
The glass shatters not with a sound but with a silence so profound it feels like the sudden cessation of breath, a vacuum that sucks the air from the room and leaves your ears ringing with a high-pitched whine that is indistinguishable from the tinnitus of a dying star, and you are standing there, in the center of the dust-covered floor of the abandoned textile mill, holding nothing but the...
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