The Faded Masquerade

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2026-08-22 20:06:52 -

The parchment in my satchel weighed no more than a handful of dried thyme, yet it dragged at my shoulder like a wet anchor. I had three days, two nights, and one hundred and forty miles of rough track to cover before the rope tightened around my brother Silas’s neck in the courtyard of the Blackstone Keep. The King’s pardon was sealed in wax the color of old blood, but the Wraith-Map, a cursed...

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