The Wistful Incense

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2026-08-23 17:34:11 -

The smoke smells of burnt sugar and old pennies. I am twelve years old. My father is dying. The Rot eats him from the inside out, turning his skin translucent as parchment. I stand in the center of the Glass Spire, a cathedral of cold crystal that pierces the English moors. I want to save him. I must brew the Wistful Incense. The Abbot, my mentor, stands by the door. He smiles. It is a wide,...

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