The Faded Masquerade
The carriage wheels bit into the mud of the King’s highway with a rhythmic, grinding protest, a sound that seemed to echo the slow, calcifying ache in Silas’s joints, a physical manifestation of the years that had not merely passed but had accumulated upon him like silt in a stagnant river, layer upon layer of dust and silence and the heavy, unyielding weight of a life lived in service to a...
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