The Faded Sutra

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2026-08-22 19:16:25 -

The Faded Sutra

I was scrubbing the mud from my boots in the station yard when the first tendril of the Sutra pushed through the cobblestones, thick as a man’s wrist and slick with black sap. It did not curl or sway; it simply pressed against the leather of my shoe, heavy and warm, testing the weight of me. I kicked it aside with a boot, feeling the damp give way, and turned back toward the door, my mind...

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