The Wistful Show
The iron stake snapped with a sound like a dry bone breaking, and the shock of it traveled up your arm, numbing your fingers as you scrambled for balance on the ridge. The mist was not merely around you; it was pressing against your chest, a physical weight that tasted of damp ash and old, crumbling paper. You were Elias Thorne, border warden of Oakhaven, and you had come here to kill a ghost,...
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