The Faded Masquerade
"Open it, Elias. Just once. See what’s left." Elias Thorne did not answer. He stood in the hallway of the manor, his fingers wrapped around the brass doorknob of the study. The metal was cold, slick with the damp that had seeped through the foundation since the roof collapsed last autumn. Outside, the wind tore at the bare branches of the elm tree, a sound like dry bones rattling in a bag. He...
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