The Wistful Incense
The first thing I noticed was the weight of the quill, exactly three ounces of iron gall, balanced against the four hundred and twelve pages of the Ledger of Sins. I counted the stitches on the leather binding, one by one, until the number blurred into a single, unbroken line. It was the Year 1200 of the Eternal Court, a place where time did not pass so much as it pooled, thick and black as the...
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