The Faded Sutra

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2026-08-18 12:52:08 -

The Faded Sutra

The feast was not a celebration of joy, but a ritual of binding, held beneath the sprawling, ancient oaks of the Holloway estate where the air tasted of wet stone and impending winter. You sat at the head of the long table, not as a queen, but as a prisoner in gilded chains, watching the candlelight flicker against the faces of your kin. They were all young, or at least they appeared so, their...

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