The Pale Mist

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2026-08-19 02:19:44 -

The Pale Mist

The mist smelled of wet ash and old blood. I stood on the bank. The water was black. It did not move. I watched a single white lily float past. It was bruised. One petal had torn away. It drifted into the dark. I did not chase it. I never chase things anymore. My name is Elias. I was a soldier. I served the Crown. I kept the peace. I held the line. Now I hold nothing. The war is over. The peace...

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