The Pale Mist

a adăugat un sunet Literature

2026-08-20 02:21:59 -

The Pale Mist

The iron gate groaned against the fog, a sound like a dying lung. I stood at the threshold of the Silver Keep, my hand resting on the cold, rusted hilt of a sword that felt heavier than any blade I had ever carried in thirty years of war. Beside me, Thomas breathed in shallow, ragged gasps, his armor clinking with every tremor of his exhaustion. We were not soldiers anymore. We were ghosts...

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