The Pale Mist

added blog Literature

2026-08-21 21:29:56 -

The Pale Mist

The fog did not roll into the city of Oakhaven; it rose from it, a thick, gray suspension that smelled of wet stone and old iron, clinging to the cobblestones and the lower eaves of the houses like a shroud that refused to be torn away. It was a living thing, this mist, patient and all-consuming, swallowing the spires of the Cathedral of St. Jude one inch at a time until the city existed only...

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