The Wistful Incense

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2026-08-20 19:07:03 -

The rain had not stopped for nine days, a persistent, gray veil that turned the cobblestones of the old abbey’s outer courtyard into slick, reflective mirrors. It was in this damp, echoing silence that Thomas found himself standing before the heavy oak doors of the scriptorium, his small hands trembling not from the cold, but from the weight of the ink-stained rag clutched in his fist. He was...

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