The Pale Shadows

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2026-08-23 22:34:11 -

The Pale Shadows

The mist did not rise in the highlands; it grew, thick and grey as wool, swallowing the pines until the world was nothing but a white void and the sound of my own breathing. I was Elias Thorne, forty-two years old, and I carried a silver blade that hummed with a cold so sharp it bit into my palm. Below me, in the thatched hut where the air smelled of rot and dried lavender, my sister Clara lay...

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