The Wistful Incense
You will find the smell before you see the place, a thick, cloying ribbon of myrrh and burnt sage that clings to the back of your throat like a bad penny, a scent that does not merely fill the air but seems to occupy the very substance of the stone walls, the heavy oak beams, and the dust motes that dance in the slanting afternoon light of the Grand Archive, that labyrinthine institution of...
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