The Faded Masquerade

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2026-08-23 08:53:55 -

The Hall of Records rose from the industrial fog of the city like a bruise on the winter sky, a brutalist monolith of grey stone that Elias Thorne had spent the last three years helping to certify. It was the winter of 1912, and the air tasted of coal smoke and impending mobilization, a metallic tang that coated the back of his throat as he stood before the massive, unyielding geometry of the...

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