The Distant Ghost
The fog in Oakhaven did not merely obscure the harbor; it seemed to possess a weight, a grey, wet density that pressed against the windows of the Guildhall like a living thing seeking entry. Elara Vane stood in the center of the assembly hall, the cracked obsidian mirror cold and heavy in her hands, feeling the familiar, sickening pull of the dead who whispered their names through the fissures...
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