The Pale Mist

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2026-08-19 00:13:37 -

The Pale Mist

You are bleeding. The blood is hot. It runs down your wrist, dark and thick against the pale stone floor. You do not look at it. You look at the thing. It sits in the center of the room. A chair. Simple. Wooden. Unadorned. You have searched for it for years. The walls are white. The air is still. There is no wind here. There is no sky. Only the white. Only the chair. You are a soldier. You know...

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