The Wistful Incense
The fog in the highlands does not roll in; it accumulates, a slow, suffocating weight that presses against the skin like wet wool. You are Elias, thirty-four years old, a priest who has spent the last three days climbing through the mist with aching knees and a heart that beats too loudly in the silence. You want the relic of Saint Jude, a small, unassuming stone said to possess the power to...
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