The Pale Mist

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2026-08-19 06:21:57 -

The Pale Mist

The rain had stopped. It left a film of grey on the cobblestones. The castle stood heavy against the sky. Inside, the air smelled of damp wool and old stone. Tomas sat on the floor. He was twelve. His knees were dirty. He held a glove. It was red. It was thick. It had three holes in the fingers. He looked at the holes. They were his doing. He had worn it through the winter. He had worn it...

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