The Wistful Campus
The mist in the valley did not behave according to the laws of physics that governed the world above the ridge; it moved with a deliberate, viscous slowness, pooling in the hollows like spilled mercury and rising to swallow the lower branches of the ancient oaks. Elias Thorne adjusted the haptic feedback gauntlet on his left wrist, the cold metal biting into his skin, and watched the fog...
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