The Faded Masquerade

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2026-08-24 00:11:38 -

Thorne. The name was not spoken by a friend, but by the damp air itself, a low moan that seemed to rise from the very stones of the cellar floor where Elias lay, his body a tangle of aching joints and the trembling palsy that had begun to steal his hands from him three winters past. He was forty years old, which felt like a century, and the candle before him was the only light in the Keep of...

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