The Pale Mist
The fog rolled in thick and white, swallowing the world whole. It erased the horizon. It erased the road. It erased me. I stood alone on the ridge, my boots sinking into the wet, black earth. The air tasted of iron and decay. I was a ghost in my own life. The uniform hung heavy on my shoulders. Wool and sweat. The scent of my own fear. I had come here to find them. To bring them back. To make...
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