The Wistful Incense
The fire did not begin with a spark, but with a smell, a thick and cloying scent of burnt hair and ancient wood that rose from the foundation of the manor house and settled into the lungs of the household like a second, poisonous breath. It was a scent that predated the house, predated the garden, predated the very soil in which the oaks were planted, and it announced itself with the quiet,...
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