The Pale Mist

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2026-08-22 20:54:34 -

The Pale Mist

The fog had rolled in from the coast before dawn, thick and grey as wet wool, pressing against the leaded windows of Thorne Hall until the glass rattled in its frames. I sat alone in the study, the only light coming from the dying embers in the fireplace, clutching my mother’s cameo brooch in my hand, the stone cracked down the middle where I had dropped it in a fit of panic that morning. The...

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