The Faded Sutra

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2026-08-20 00:14:00 -

The Faded Sutra

The ink on the seal had long since dried into a brittle, brown crust, flaking off the heavy oak desk in dust motes that danced in the single beam of afternoon sun. I watched it crumble, a small, silent death, and felt a strange, hollow lightness in my chest, a void where my identity used to be. My name is Arthur, or at least it was, before the Department decided that names were inefficient...

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