The Wistful Incense

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2026-08-20 01:23:16 -

The clock in the Hall of Records strikes four. You are standing in the center of the marble floor. The air is thick with dust and the smell of old paper. It smells like decay. It smells like time. You are ten years old. You are the youngest clerk in the Empire. Your name is Arthur. Your father was the Chief Archivist before the fever took him. Now you hold his pen. You hold his silence. The...

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