The Mist of Oblivion

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2026-06-18 23:34:04 -

The fog of the London outskirts did not merely drift; it breathed. It was a thick, suffocating shroud of grey that erased the horizon and swallowed the sound of the distant city. In this liminal space lived the Spirit of the Mist, a creature of fading echoes and half-remembered dreams. He had no name—not anymore. Names were the first things to dissolve when one became a part of the grey. One...

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