The Faded Masquerade
The gavel did not strike the sound block; it hovered, a suspended judgment in the stale air of the High Court, while the silence that followed was not the silence of peace but the heavy, suffocating weight of a tomb sealing shut. Elias Thorne stood at the center of the marble floor, his shadow stretching long and thin toward the gallery where the faces of the city blurred into a single,...
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