The Wistful Incense

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2026-08-18 03:12:43 -

The smell hits you before the sight does. It is thick, cloying, and sweet, like overripe peaches left to rot in the sun. You stand at the edge of the village square, your boots sunk into the mud of the early morning. The mist has not yet lifted. It clings to the thatched roofs of the cottages, to the gnarled branches of the oak trees, and to the stone walls of the Old Hall. You are Margaret....

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