The Wistful Letter

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2026-08-18 01:45:17 -

The fog clung to the moor like a shroud. It was thick. It was cold. It tasted of rust. And it was alive. Elias Thorne walked into the mist. His boots sank into the peat. Black mud sucked at his heels. He pulled them free. He walked on. The wind howled. It sounded like a scream. Or a laugh. He did not know. He could not tell. He was the Inquisitor of the Void. A title he had earned. A title he...

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