The Pale Verdict
The stone tower stood in the center of the grey valley, not built of mortar and brick, but of compressed silence and old, cold rain. It was a place where the laws of the waking world did not quite hold. Margaret Holloway climbed the spiraling stairs, her boots slipping on the wet, slick surface that was less stone and more frozen mud. She was not a warrior. She was a woman with aching feet and...
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