The Pale Mist

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2026-08-19 15:33:20 -

The Pale Mist

The hall of the Citadel was not a room but a lung, a vast, breathing cavity carved from the living bone of the earth, where the air tasted of ozone and old, dried blood, and the torches flickered with a light that seemed to pulse in rhythm with the slow, heavy heartbeat of the mountain itself. In the center of this cavernous space, where the flagstones were worn smooth by the feet of a thousand...

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