The Faded Masquerade
Lucia Valdes stood in the kitchen of the old Valdes estate, her hands resting on the scarred oak table, and waited for the silence to break. The house was a wreck of plaster and rot, a place where the wind moved through the broken shutters like a ghost trying to find a door, but it was not the wind that made her flinch. It was the sound of Mateo’s voice, thin and distant, calling her name from...
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