The Faded Sutra

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2026-08-20 18:31:47 -

The Faded Sutra

The banquet hall of the Guild of Masons and Architects smelled of roasted pork, spilled wine, and the dry, chalky dust of ancient limestone, a scent that you would come to associate not with celebration, but with the specific, cloying sweetness of a trap closing around your ankles. You stood at the edge of the room, a figure defined less by your presence than by the conspicuous vacancy of your...

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