The Faded Masquerade
Thorne. The name hangs in the air, heavy and cold, spoken by the Duke with a casualness that is more terrifying than a shout. You are Elias Thorne, forty-two, a scholar of dead tongues, and you are standing in the sealed vault of the Duke’s private library, your hands trembling not from the cold, but from the sheer, crushing weight of the object in your grip. The ledger. It is a thick,...
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