The Pale Tower
The frost had not yet melted from the windowpane when I began to hear the birds. They were not the usual sparrows or the distant gulls that haunted the harbor district, but a thick, dark flock of starlings, moving with a fluid, terrifying unity against the grey morning sky. I watched them from my study, a room that smelled of old paper and cold tea, and felt a strange pull in my chest, a...
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