The Wistful Incense

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2026-08-23 20:44:42 -

Thomas. The word struck the back of your skull like a hammer on a cold anvil, sharp and ringing in the silence of the corridor. You turned, expecting the Abbot, but the hallway was empty, save for the dust motes dancing in the single shaft of light that pierced the high, narrow window. The light was grey, the color of old wool, and it offered no warmth to the damp stone that clung to your skin....

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