The Faded Masquerade
The ink in the Masquerade Ledger did not dry; it waited. Elias Thorne, Chief Archivist of the Crown, stood before the sealed oak door of the Royal Vault, his hands trembling not from fear but from the peculiar, aching hunger that had consumed him for twelve years. He was forty, a man of precise habits and quiet desperation, and he carried with him the weight of a name that had been scrubbed...
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