The Faded Sutra

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2026-08-19 22:56:56 -

The Faded Sutra

The rain had not stopped for three days, turning the cobblestones of the Old Quarter into slick, black mirrors that reflected the sickly yellow gaslight of the watchtowers. I left my post at the eastern gate just as the curfew bell began to toll, a heavy, iron clang that vibrated in my molars. My boots were soaked through, the leather heavy with mud and the stench of the canal that ran beneath...

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