The Faded Sutra
The rain fell in sheets of grey iron, drumming against the leaded glass of the high tower, a rhythmic percussion that matched the frantic beating of Elias Thorne’s heart. He stood at the edge of the precipice, not of stone, but of ink and parchment, his hands trembling as he held the vial of liquid amber that pulsed with a faint, bioluminescent glow. This was the Elixir of Clarity, distilled...
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