The Pale Mist

added blog Literature

2026-08-20 12:49:27 -

The Pale Mist

The tower was a throat of stone, narrow and cold, swallowing the light of the dying afternoon before it could reach the floor. Here, in the uppermost chamber of the Abbey of St. Jude’s, the air hung heavy with the scent of damp wool and the slow, sweet decay of old parchment. Brother Silas sat upon a stool that had worn a hollow in its seat over three centuries, his hands resting upon the great...

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