The Faded Masquerade
The candlelight in the undercroft of the City Hall flickered with the erratic rhythm of Elias Thorne’s breathing, a sound that had long since ceased to be merely human and had become a mechanical grinding, like rusted gears forcing themselves into alignment against the resistance of time. He stood before the stocks where Julian, a boy of no more than nineteen, sat bound by his ankles, his face...
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