The Wistful Incense

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2026-08-23 09:27:01 -

The scribe’s voice was thin and sharp, cutting through the damp silence of the cloister like a knife through wet rope. “Elara, the Bishop’s carriage waits. You have one hour to deliver the sealed packet, and do not stop for the rain or for your grief.” Elara stood by the stone wall, her fingers trembling not from the cold but from the weight of the wax seal in her pocket. It was a heavy, red...

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