The Wistful Incense

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2026-08-24 10:18:58 -

My hand trembled as I ground the resin, the pestle scraping against the mortar with a sound like a dry bone breaking, and the smell of it, that cloying, sweet rot, filled the small stone chapel until it was almost a taste in my mouth. I am Silas, warden of the northern gate, and I am forty-two years old, though the fever has made me feel like a man of eighty who has forgotten how to stand. The...

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