The Pale Mist
The fog did not drift into the valley; it arrived with the deliberate, slow grace of a funeral procession, swallowing the jagged teeth of the cliffs and the ancient, moss-eaten stones of the castle walls. It was a white, suffocating silence that pressed against the eyes and ears, erasing the horizon until the world was reduced to a ten-foot sphere of gray mist and the cold, damp air that tasted...
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