The Faded Masquerade

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2026-08-22 09:19:42 -

The frost had not yet settled on the valley floor, but the cold had already crept into the bones of the monastery, a damp, creeping rot that smelled of wet wool and old stone. Elias stood in the shadow of the refectory arch, his hand deep in the pocket of his roughspun tunic, feeling the cold glass of the vial against his palm. It was a small, unassuming thing, filled with a tincture so dark it...

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