The Pale Shadows
The mist in the valley of Aethelgard did not rise; it breathed, a cold, silver exhalation that tasted of iron and old graves. Elias Thorne, Captain of the Iron Guard, stood at the edge of the Whispering Woods, his right hand gripping the hilt of a sword that had seen better decades, his left arm empty where the Rot had taken his hand three years prior. He was thirty years old, though the lines...
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