The Distant Promise
The fog rolled in from the moors like a living thing, a thick, grey wool that strangled the light and turned the world into a place of echoes and damp silence, where the air tasted of iron and old rot, and where the boundary between the living and the dead had long since dissolved into a single, indistinguishable mist that clung to the skin like a second, colder layer of flesh. Sir Aldric Vane...
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