The Faded Sutra
The rain fell in thin, gray sheets over the checkpoint, blurring the line between the asphalt and the mist. Elias Thorne stood behind the barrier, his uniform pressed into sharp, unwavering lines that contrasted with the soft, rotting world beyond. He had been here for three days. The shift change had come and gone, yet he remained, a statue of duty in a landscape that had begun to dissolve....
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