The Pale Mist
You are standing in the dark. Not the dark of night. Not the dark of sleep. A thick, viscous dark. It presses against your skin. It tastes of iron and old dust. You are a soldier. You know this. You feel the weight of the armor on your shoulders. The mail chain chimes. A soft, metallic clatter. It is the only sound. You are in a tower. Stone walls. High ceiling. A single window. High up....
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