The Faded Sutra
The departure of the last moth was a soundless event, yet it shook the foundation of the Palace of Silence. Elara watched from her window, her fingers white against the cold iron bars, as the final insect spiraled into the grey dawn, its wings dusting the air with a fine, powdery grief. It was not a death, but an ascension. It had found the light that the walls had long denied it, and in doing...
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