The Wistful Incense

added blog Literature

2026-08-21 18:40:29 -

You stand at the edge of the precipice, where the stone gives way to the churning, black water of the River Aves, and the mist rises off the surface like the breath of a dying god, thick and cloying and smelling of ancient rot and crushed mint, and you realize that your hands, those hands which have held the heavy iron hilt of the royal guard’s sword for thirty years without a tremor, are now...

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