The Faded Sutra

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2026-08-18 02:33:49 -

The Faded Sutra

The fire started in the eaves. It ate the oak rafters with a hungry, wet crackle. Margaret stood in the center of the grand hall. Her gown was soaked. Her hands were still. She watched the flames take the ceiling. She did not scream. She did not run. She held the book. It was a heavy thing. Bound in leather. The leather was cracked. The pages were yellow. It was a treatise on the nature of...

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