The Pale Mist

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2026-08-18 08:24:11 -

The Pale Mist

The fog did not drift. It stood. It pressed against the stone windows of the Blackwood Tower like a living thing. I stood before the mirror. My hands shook. I held a silver knife. My wife, Elara, slept in the bed beyond the door. Her breathing was shallow. Wet. I am the keeper of the seal. I am the investigator of the void. For ten years, I have walked these halls. I have read the runes. I have...

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