The Pale Mist

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2026-08-19 11:26:26 -

The Pale Mist

The iron pommel of the halberd has worn smooth under my palm, a circle of polished stone that mirrors the dull gray of the morning sky. It is not merely a weapon, for in the service of the Crown, it has become an extension of my own flesh, a second hand that knows the weight of the world before my fingers do. I stand in the courtyard of the keep, the air thick with the smell of wet stone and...

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