The Distant Ghost
The fog did not merely settle upon the Court of the Pale King; it breathed, a cold, damp exhalation that seeped through the stone walls and into the marrow of every soul within the palace, turning the air into a thick, grey soup that muted sound and softened edges. Elias stood in the archivist’s antechamber, his hands trembling not from the chill, but from the weight of the Obsidian Ledger...
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