The Pale Door
The fog does not merely settle upon the valley of Blackwood; it possesses it, a thick, grey wool that chokes the breath from the air and swallows the sound of your own footsteps as you trudge along the muddy track toward the manor. You are Elias Thorne, forty-two years old, a border warden whose uniform hangs heavy and damp against your shoulders, the insignia of the Magistrate’s office...
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