The Pale Mist

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2026-08-23 05:53:27 -

The Pale Mist

The ink bled. It did not dry; it wept, spreading across the vellum in dark, weeping veins that swallowed the letters Thomas had spent three hours carving. He pressed his quill harder, the nib scratching a sharp, angry line against the skin of the page, but the pigment refused to hold, dissolving into a grey, watery smear. The Pale Mist had returned. It seeped from the pores of the parchment, a...

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