The Wistful Incense
The Great Hall of the Order of the Silver Veil did not smell of the lavender and beeswax that the statutes prescribed for the sanctification of the air, but of something far older and far more pungent, a thick, cloying aroma that hung in the vaulted ceiling like a physical weight, smelling of crushed juniper, dried blood, and the metallic tang of ozone that precedes a storm which refuses to...
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