The Pale Mist

added blog Literature

2026-08-19 16:01:21 -

The Pale Mist

The train to the capital cut through the grey morning like a blade through unripe fruit, and Eleanor Vane sat in the corner of the compartment, her fingers wrapped around a ceramic cup of tea that had long since gone cold, the surface of it trembling with every rhythmic lurch of the carriage as it negotiated the narrow, twisting tracks of the highlands. She was not a woman accustomed to travel,...

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