The Pale Mist
The glass did not shatter with a crash. It failed with a sigh, a thin, high-pitched whine that cut through the heavy air of the town hall before the shards began to fall like rain. Elias watched the reflection of his own face dissolve into a hundred fractured pieces. He stood in the center of the chamber, the dust motes dancing in the slanted afternoon light, and felt a coldness settle in his...
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