The Wistful Incense

a adăugat un sunet Literature

2026-08-21 18:19:14 -

The air in the Hall of Records did not smell of dust, as one might expect from a place of such ancient stillness, but of wet iron and stale lavender, a scent that clung to the wool of my doublet and seeped into the pores of my skin until I felt I was slowly being preserved in it like a flower pressed between the pages of a book no one would ever open. I sat at the oak desk, the wood worn smooth...

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