The Faded Sutra
The feast was a grotesque parody of joy, a banquet of rotting fruit and stale wine served on silver platters that had tarnished beyond recognition, yet the laughter in the Great Hall rang out with a brittle, metallic clarity that shattered the heavy silence of the ancient citadel. I stood in the shadows of the stone archway, my armor clinking softly against the damp floor, my hand resting on...
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