The Wistful Incense

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2026-08-23 19:55:06 -

The ceremonial blade was cold against Elias Thorne’s palm, a slab of iron so smooth it felt like a river stone worn by centuries of water. He held it not with the grip of a soldier, but with the trembling, desperate clutch of a man trying to hold back a flood with his bare hands. Around him, the air of the Aethelgard sanctuary was thick with the scent of burnt sage and ancient dust, a smell...

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