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750 pages, Paperback
First published May 14, 2023
"As Hugh laughed in the toxic rain, he saw the nostril of the imprisoned dragon wrinkle as the contents of the glass sphere drifted up into it. Felt the particulate and gases inside drift inwards with his scent affinity.
The stink of the burning insect swarms here in Havath City, and the reek of the leaking alchemicals from the corpses of the Intertwined.
The bismuth aura of Pitas the Younger’s demesne.
The brimstone and iodine vapors of Limnus.
The busy alien spice markets and ripe crowds of Kemetrias.
The acrid, bizarre scents of Apoptis.
The diverse smells of multiple labyrinths.
The stink of dozens of chamberpots over the years.
The smoke of the battle for Skyhold.
The overwhelming odors of flowers and rot from the jungle around Imperial Ithos.
The scent of magical mold from the Grand Library of Skyhold, and the even worse-smelling alchemical powder used to kill it.
The nonsense synaesthetic odors produced by dreamfire, ranging from the smell of green exhaustion to the smell of gravity’s song.
The overwhelming fragrance of a Theras Tel spice market.
The residue of multiple sea voyages’ worth of Talia’s vomit.
The foul guts of a crab monster in the depths of Skyhold’s labyrinth.
And most of all, nearly overwhelming all the other stinks, drifted the stench of years and years of Hugh’s own armpits, which would brook few rivals among even other teenage boys.
The imprisoned dragon head, even though it didn’t need to breathe, still had a perfectly intact nose.
And it smelled everything Hugh had just released from the glass scent-absorbing sphere.
Then passed those sensations right along to Heliothrax."