The Pale Circus
The fog that swallowed the city of Aethelgard was not merely a weather phenomenon but a living, breathing entity, a thick, grey gauze that clung to the cobblestones and the high, spired roofs of the ancient houses, blurring the line between the solid world and the void that lay beyond its edges. I had walked within this mist for what felt like centuries, though the sun, when it pierced the...
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