The Pale Door
The watchtower stood not as a sentinel but as a tomb, its limestone bones cracked and bleached by the relentless, indifferent sun of the valley, a structure that had once commanded the respect of the living but now served only as a mirror for the rotting ambitions of the dead. Elias Thorne, the final warden of the Northern Reach, stood at the base of this architectural ruin, his boots sinking...
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