The Pale Mist

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2026-08-23 17:15:15 -

The Pale Mist

The ledger lay open on the obsidian table, the ink still wet and glistening, counting out the last of Silas’s fortune in three heavy columns. He did not look at the numbers; he looked at the silver clasp in his palm, the weight of it a cold anchor against his fevered skin, whispering the true intent of the man standing before the throne. The mist in the hall was not weather, but a living thing,...

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