The Faded Masquerade
The letter in Arthur Vane’s hand was torn at the edges, the paper soft and dark with age. It held the weight of seven years, a physical thing that seemed to pull his fingers down toward the gravel of the station platform. He stood alone in the grey drizzle of Oakhaven, the industrial town that had swallowed his family whole. The train had left him there, a deliberate choice to walk the final...
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