The Faded Sutra
Act I The alpine wind scoured the valley floor, stripping the last of the color from the willows that lined the abandoned canal, a gray and desolate stretch of water that reflected nothing but the heavy, low-hanging clouds of the parish. In the shadow of the sealed king’s granary, where the air smelled of damp stone and rotting straw, Karin Kessler stood with her hands shoved deep into the...
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