The Faded Masquerade
Hassan Salem, the man whose name was scratched into the registry of the port city’s lost souls, stood before the radiator that knocked like a dying heart, his left hand trembling so violently that the ink from his quill bled into the parchment like fresh blood, a dark stain spreading across the final page of the ledger he had spent three years compiling for the Duke. The year was not 1342, as...
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