The Faded Sutra

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2026-08-20 13:53:07 -

The Faded Sutra

The feast was a roar of gold and noise. Margaret stood at the edge of the hall. The air tasted of spiced wine and sweat. She wore silk that cost more than a farm. It felt like a cage. Her hands trembled. Not from fear. From the weight of the years. Lord Aldric sat on the throne. He was old. His face was a map of wrinkles and cruelty. He pointed a gnarled finger at her. "Sing," he commanded. The...

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