The Faded Sutra
The hand did not sleep. It sat in Elias’s lap, a pale, fleshy thing with long, jointed fingers that twitched when the candlelight flickered. It was a commission, technically. Abbot Thorne had ordered the *Book of Revelation* completed before the winter solstice, and Elias, the senior scribe of St. Jude’s Abbey, had taken the work to secure his standing. More importantly, he had taken it to...
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