The Wistful Incense
The rain had not stopped for three days, a persistent, gray sheet that turned the cobblestones of the old manor’s courtyard into a slick, treacherous mirror reflecting the swollen, blackened branches of the ancient oak that stood at the center of the grounds, and as you trudged through the mud with your coat soaked to the skin, you felt the weight of the silence pressing against your eardrums,...
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