The Pale Mist
The dampness in the North Vault did not smell like rot, but of wet chalk and old iron, a scent that had settled into the lining of your lungs over three years of service. You are Elias, forty-two, a senior archivist in the crumbling imperial palace of the Kingdom of Veridia, and you are desperate to secure your position by cataloging the late King’s private correspondence before the new regime...
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