The Pale Mist

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2026-08-18 05:42:37 -

The Pale Mist

You wake with the taste of iron in your mouth, a metallic tang that coats the tongue and lingers like a bad omen. It is not blood, you tell yourself, though the dream was vivid, a nightmare of grey stone and screaming bells. You are in the infirmary of the Citadel, the air thick with the smell of boiled linseed and damp wool. The light from the high windows is pale and thin, casting long,...

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