The Faded Masquerade
The ledger in your hand weighs nothing, but the ink feels heavy, wet, and wrong. You are Elias Thorne, and you have counted the hours of the night watch for twelve years, tallying them in your head like sacks of grain, waiting for the day the Guildmaster finally counts you back. Your right hand trembles now, a fine, persistent shake that makes the quiver slip in the well of the pen. It is the...
0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews