The Wistful Incense
The glass shatters. Not breaks. Shatters. Into a thousand jagged teeth. Mara holds the shards. Her hand bleeds. Red drops hit the white marble. The court is silent. The judges watch. They do not blink. They do not move. They are statues of wood and gold. Mara is the Investigator. Her title is loud. It means nothing. She seeks the truth. The truth is a ghost. It hides in the cracks. The object...
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