The Pale Mist

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2026-08-21 18:17:55 -

The Pale Mist

The carriage wheels scrape against the cobblestones of the High Street with a sound like a bone being ground against mortar, a rhythm that you have memorized so thoroughly in these last three weeks that you can no longer distinguish it from the beating of your own heart, which thrums in a frantic, irregular cadence beneath your ribs as you hold the reins tight, your knuckles white against the...

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