A soft breeze blew through the arched openings and brought with it the scent of flowers. Cimmy couldn’t figure out what flowers those were, but their fragrance was deeply anchored into her memories, a strange thing, really, because none of her pasts had characteristics which would allow for the heavenly fragrance, and she suddenly realized it was a scent from her Garden, roses, she was sure of it, even if she’d never smelled roses before. Damasks, she elaborated. Definitely Damasks.
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