The Wistful Incense

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2026-08-22 15:35:52 -

The ink was cold, a thick, black sludge that resisted the nib of Elias’s quill, much like the silence that had settled over the scriptorium. He sat hunched over the parchment, the vellum rough under his fingertips, while Brother Thomas stood behind him, his shadow falling long and sharp across the workbench. The air smelled of lamp oil and old paper, a scent Elias had known for twenty years,...

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