The Pale Tower
The rain had been falling for three days, a steady, gray curtain that blurred the line between the pine forest and the distant, jagged teeth of the mountains, and within the confines of the timber-framed lodge, which smelled of damp wool, old parchment, and the sharp, metallic tang of impending winter, the air was thick with a silence that felt less like peace and more like a held breath...
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