The Pale Mist
The dampness of the cellar clings to your skin, a cold weight that settles into the bones. You are Elara, and you are thirty years old, though the mirror on the table does not seem to agree. You have come here for the Codex of Silence, a book lost to the abbey’s records for a century, sought by the Abbot for reasons he keeps locked behind his lips. Your eyes are failing. The pain is a dull,...
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