The Faded Sutra
The monsoon wind carried salt through the cracked windows of St. Cedd's Priory, where Brother Anselm sat alone with the fading light and the sutra that refused to be read. For seventeen years he had kept the manuscript in the lead-lined chest beneath the altar steps—seventeen years since the last pilgrim had knelt before it, since the last prayer had risen from these stones like incense. Now...
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