The Pale Banner
The mist did not rise from the valley so much as it leaked, a slow, grey exhalation from the earth itself, pooling in the hollows and clinging to the roots of the ancient oaks with the tenacity of a widow holding onto a shroud. Captain Silas Thorne walked through it, his boots sinking into the wet, mossy turf that covered the bones of men who had died centuries before he was born, and who would...
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