The Wistful Incense

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2026-08-21 10:55:46 -

The smell was not incense. It was copper and old rain, sharp enough to make my eyes water. I stood in the center of the Hall of Whispers, a vast, circular chamber carved from white stone that felt cold against my bare feet. The air hung thick, suspended in a grey haze that refused to settle. I was the Master of the Seal, the man who kept the words of the dead from leaking into the world of the...

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