The Faded Root

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2026-08-18 22:13:07 -

The Faded Root

The banquet hall of the Department of Internal Stability smelled of boiled cabbage and old copper, a scent that seemed to seep into the marrow of the bones of those who lingered within its high, vaulted ceilings. We sat in a long semicircle of mahogany chairs, the wood polished to a mirror sheen that reflected our own hollowed faces back at us with a cruel, silent judgment. At the head of the...

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