The Wistful Incense

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2026-08-18 10:06:40 -

The fire started not in the hearth, but in the ledger. It began as a spark, a tiny, orange eye blinking in the margin of the accounts, and by the time the smoke reached the high vaulted ceilings of the Abbey’s scriptorium, I had already stopped trying to scream. The air was thick, tasting of ash and old paper, a dry, choking dust that settled in my throat like sand. Around me, the other nuns...

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