The Pale Mist

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2026-08-22 06:06:18 -

The Pale Mist

You are the Inquisitor. The title sits on your tongue like a stone, heavy and cold. It is not a title you chose. It is a title the mist gave you. The town of Oakhaven breathes in fog. It has always breathed in fog. The mist is not merely weather. It is a living thing, a pale skin stretched over the cobblestones, the timbered houses, the necks of the horses. It tastes of iron and old rain. You...

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