The Pale Mist

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2026-08-24 00:42:31 -

The Pale Mist

The magistrate’s seal was broken, a jagged tear of red wax that looked like a wound refusing to close. I had not come to Oakhaven to be a guest, nor had I come to be a suspect, though the distinction seemed to matter little to the men standing at the gates with their pikes and their suspicion. I was an alchemist, a man of forty years who had spent the last two decades grinding mercury and...

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