The Pale Mist

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2026-08-24 11:13:13 -

The Pale Mist

The heavy silver tongs in Elias Thorne’s hand clattered against the porcelain rim of the punch bowl, a sharp, metallic shriek that cut through the low roar of the retirement banquet in the Oakhaven Town Hall. He was forty-two, a man whose face had been carved by twenty years of service into a landscape of deep lines and flat, unreadable eyes, and he stood at the center of the room holding a...

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