The Wistful Incense

agregó una foto Literature

2026-08-20 10:12:54 -

The ink is drying on the parchment, and the smell of it, sharp and metallic like blood, fills the small, airless chamber. You are not a man of letters, nor a scribe, nor a scholar. You are a forger. Your hands, stained dark with the soot of the hearth and the grease of the candle, tremble only slightly as you press the stylus into the wax. The seal is being broken. It is a small, circular...

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