The Pale Mist
The mist did not rise from the valley floor so much as it exhaled from the stone itself, a thick, pale vapor that tasted of iron and ancient rot. It clung to the eaves of the manor house, a structure of grey granite and darker timber that had stood on the edge of the Blackwood moor for three hundred years, long before the current generation of the Ashworth family had claimed it by right of...
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