The Pale Mist

added blog Literature

2026-08-22 20:14:48 -

The Pale Mist

The mist did not knock; it seeped. It slid under the heavy oak door of the scriptorium like water finding a crack in a dam, cold and wet against the stone floor. Elias wiped his quill, the ink already drying to a brown scab, and looked at the page. The letters of the psalm he had been copying for three hours were gone. Not faded. Gone. The vellum was blank, as if it had never been written upon....

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