The Pale Mist

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2026-08-18 20:01:42 -

The Pale Mist

The King’s hand was cold. He held it up. Look, Sir Aldric. The skin was pale. Too pale. Like milk curdled in the dark. Aldric stared. The throne room was silent. Dust motes danced in the shafts of light. They fell like snow. They fell like ash. "Is it done?" the King whispered. His voice was a thread. It snapped. It frayed. Aldric said nothing. He felt the weight of the sword at his hip. It was...

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