The Wistful Incense

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2026-08-22 15:03:06 -

The cellar smelled of damp stone and the sharp, metallic tang of old iron. Margaret Holloway sat on a stool that had lost one leg, propping the gap with a brick, and watched the small fire she had built in the grate. It was a weak fire. It did not warm her hands. It only illuminated the jar sitting on the shelf above the hearth. Inside the jar, the root of the black wisteria turned slowly,...

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