The Pale Tower
The air in the sub-basement of the Ashworth Institute was not merely stale; it was sedimentary. It settled in the lungs like fine silt, coating the taste buds with the metallic tang of oxidized copper and ancient dust. Elias Thorne sat alone in the circular chamber, a space no larger than a closet, surrounded by walls of poured concrete that hummed with a low, subsonic frequency. He was a man...
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