The Pale Mist

added blog Literature

2026-08-23 11:58:57 -

The Pale Mist

The Abbot’s voice cut through the damp silence of the scriptorium, sharp as a chisel striking wet stone. "Elias Thorne." The name hung in the air, heavy with the scent of old vellum and the metallic tang of fear that Elias could not scrub from his own skin. He stood by the window, the iron bars of his confinement cold against his fingertips, and watched the storm batter the Abbey of St. Jude....

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