The Pale Mist

added blog Literature

2026-08-22 18:24:10 -

The Pale Mist

The brass button of his tunic hung on the edge of the wooden table, cold and bright under the guttering candlelight. Elias Thorne turned it over in his rough, calloused hands, feeling the slight burr of metal against his thumb, a small friction that grounded him in the damp, stone-walled barracks of the 14th Regiment. He was thirty-two years old, a man who had carved his identity from iron...

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