The Faded Sutra
The rain had been falling for three days, a persistent and grey curtain that blurred the boundaries between the cobblestones of the High Street and the muddy gutters where the refuse of the industrial age collected like sediment in a stagnant pool, creating a landscape that seemed to dissolve under the relentless weight of the sky, and in this damp and suffocating atmosphere, Elias Thorne stood...
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