The Pale Protocol
The fog in the valley of Ashby did not merely settle; it invaded, a cold, viscous liquid that seeped through the keyholes of the iron doors and pooled on the floorboards of the subterranean laboratory where young Elias stood, his hands trembling not from the chill, but from the terrible, crushing weight of his own suspicion. He was nineteen, a scholar of the old sort, yet he felt more like a...
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