The Bridge of Forgotten Names

A bridge carved from obsidian contained faint inscriptions of names worn away by centuries of footsteps. When someone crossed it, they felt momentarily anonymous — not erased, but freed. A queen once crossed disguised, and for the first time in decades, she felt simply human. Travelers said the bridge didn’t remove identity; it removed expectation. On the other side, people walked differently, lighter, as if reminded that being oneself requires no name at all.