The Faded Sutra
The ink on the parchment was not merely black but a deep, bruised violet that seemed to bleed into the vellum, a testament to the alchemical secrets that Master Aldric had kept hidden behind his teeth for forty years, and as I held the fragment in my trembling hands, the air in the scriptorium grew thick with the scent of dried oak and the metallic tang of impending doom, for we knew that the...
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