The Pale Mist

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2026-08-19 08:14:48 -

The Pale Mist

The fog did not roll in. It was there. It had always been there. It filled the city of Oakhaven like a thick, grey soup, smelling of wet wool and old iron. It clung to the cobblestones. It bit into the skin. It erased the horizon. It erased the past. Thomas Bradshaw walked through it. He walked with a purpose. He walked with a pain. He walked with a hunger. He was the City’s Inquisitor. A title...

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