The Faded Sutra

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2026-08-21 14:14:47 -

The Faded Sutra

The hall smelled of roasted boar and stale lavender, a thick, cloying perfume that hung heavy in the air like the breath of the dead. I stood near the shadows, my hands hidden within the folds of my gown, watching the feast unfold with a detachment that felt less like observation and more like the slow, cold tide of a fever. It was the midwinter solstice, a time of turning, and Lord Ashworth...

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