The Faded Sutra
The jade seal is cold against your palm, a weight that feels less like stone and more like a held breath. You are Elias Thorne, Senior Sentinel of the High Court, and you have spent the last three hours polishing this artifact until your knuckles ache and the varnish on the archive table wears thin under your elbow. The Sutra of Silence lies open before you, its pages brittle with age, the ink...
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