The Pale Mist

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2026-08-19 17:06:39 -

The Pale Mist

The bell in the tower did not ring; it screamed. It was a sound that had no business existing in the stone throat of the abbey, a shriek of metal twisting against itself, echoing off the vaulted ceilings where the shadows pooled like stagnant water. Margaret stood in the center of the nave, her back to the altar, her hands clasped so tightly around a small, clay vessel that her knuckles had...

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