The Faded Sutra
The leather binding of the Codex Aeterna was cold against Elias Thorne’s palms, a chill that seemed to seep through the skin and settle in the marrow, distinct from the dampness of the basement archive where the air tasted of mildew and old paper. He sat alone in the sub-basement of the Ministry of Truth, a room designated for the storage of obsolete fiscal records, the fluorescent lights above...
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