The Pale Mist
The glass shattered not with a crash, but with a scream, a high-pitched shriek that tore through the sterile silence of the laboratory. Elias Vane did not flinch. He stood before the centrifuge, his hands trembling not from fear, but from the terrible, electric anticipation of what lay inside the ruptured vial. The liquid spilled across the stainless steel table, a viscous, iridescent fluid...
0 Yorumlar 0 hisse senetleri 2 Views 0 önizleme