The Faded Masquerade

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2026-08-22 18:36:16 -

Thorne. The name was spat out by the chandelier, a jagged syllable that hung in the ozone-thick air of the Obsidian Gate’s banquet hall, where the chandeliers were not glass but suspended clusters of bleached rib bones that clicked against one another like the teeth of a starving dog. You stood in the center of the marble floor, your border warden’s tunic damp with sweat that smelled of iron...

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