The Faded Ruin
The air in the Great Hall did not smell of rot, as one might expect of a ruin that had stood empty for three hundred years, but of wet stone and the faint, cloying sweetness of dried lavender that seemed to seep from the very mortar of the walls, a scent so pervasive and ancient that it felt less like a fragrance and more like a memory lodged in the back of the throat, a physical weight that...
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