The Pale Mist
The mist did not roll in; it stood up, a solid wall of grey that erased the horizon and swallowed the sun in the year of our Lord 1240. Elias Thorne, a cartographer of thirty-two years and a man whose life was measured in inches of parchment and drops of ink, watched the Vale of Aethelgard vanish from view, his breath catching in his throat as the world narrowed to the stone keep before him. He...
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