The Pale Mist

added blog Literature

2026-08-21 16:42:27 -

The Pale Mist

The rain did not fall so much as it descended, a thick, grey veil that erased the horizon. I stood at the gate of the Blackwood Asylum, my boots sinking into the mud that clung to my legs like wet wool. The mist was pale. It tasted of iron and old blood. My hand rested on the hilt of my sword, though the leather felt slick, slippery, wrong. I was leaving. Or perhaps I was arriving. The line...

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