The Pale Tower

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2026-08-18 15:33:16 -

The Pale Tower

The bus smelled of wet wool and diesel. I pressed my forehead against the cold glass, watching the rain blur the highway into a streak of gray and silver. My hands were locked in my lap, fingers intertwined so tightly the nails dug into the skin. I was going back to the Facility. Not to visit. To stay. "You sure about this, Elias?" I didn’t look up. The voice belonged to Mara. She sat across...

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