The Wistful Incense

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2026-08-19 02:51:35 -

The mist in the valley of Oakhaven did not behave like water; it behaved like a memory, thick and grey and smelling faintly of old paper and damp wool, clinging to the skin of the world with a persistence that defied the logic of the wind. I had walked for three days through this suspended silence, my boots heavy with a mud that seemed to have a will of its own, sucking at my ankles with the...

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