The Wistful Incense
The wax seal burns your palm, a hot, living thing that pulses against the skin like a second heartbeat. You are Silas, Inquisitor of the Northern Reach, and you have held this seal for three years, yet today it feels different, heavier, as if the wax has grown teeth. You want to burn the heretic. You want to end the doubt that has seeped into the stones of the citadel. But the seal whispers...
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