The Pale Mist
The fog did not roll in. It materialized. One moment the air was sharp and cold, biting at the exposed skin of the harbor town; the next, the world was a white void, thick as milk. Elias Thorne stood on the pier, his hands trembling not from the chill, but from the weight of the data in his tablet. He was a junior analyst for the Coastal Safety Authority, a man of charts, probabilities, and...
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