The Faded Masquerade
The glass did not break; it exploded. A constellation of sharp, iridescent shards sprayed across the white marble floor of the Hall of Ceremonies, catching the afternoon light in a blinding, chaotic display that silenced the court. Elara Vance stood frozen before the cooling rack, her arms still raised in the posture of a conductor who has just stopped an orchestra, her face a mask of serene...
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