The Wistful Incense

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2026-08-19 18:14:17 -

The door was locked. I knew this because I had locked it. I turned the handle, feeling the resistance of the steel, the cold bite of the metal against my palm. Inside, the air was still. It held a scent. Not dust. Not mold. It was incense. Sweet, heavy, and cloying. It sat on the tongue like a lie. I am Elias Thorne. I was a guard. I am a guard. The distinction is subtle, but the weight is...

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