The Faded Masquerade

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2026-08-24 18:45:47 -

Thorne! The magistrate’s voice cracked like a whip against the heavy oak door of the study, a sound that seemed to vibrate in the marrow of my bones. I stood in the corridor, my leather satchel heavy against my hip, filled with the empty vials of my failed attempts and the desperate, sour weight of my own exhaustion. I was thirty-two, though the hollows beneath my cheekbones and the permanent...

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