The Pale Tower

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2026-08-18 03:44:42 -

The Pale Tower

The letter arrived on a day when the mist clung to the stone walls of the Ministry of Records like a shroud that refused to be peeled away, and it was in this oppressive stillness that Arthur Penhaligon, a scribe of the lower echelons, felt the first cold prick of a memory he had sworn to bury, the memory of his mother’s hands, those hands that had once kneaded the soft, living dough of the...

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