The Pale Tale
The fog in Oakhaven did not roll in; it settled, a heavy, wet wool that strangled the light and turned the world into a gray, breathing thing. I had walked for six years through this damp silence, carrying the weight of a badge that felt more like a shackle than a symbol of authority, and today the mist seemed to press against my chest, demanding an answer I had been avoiding for half a decade....
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