The Pale Tower
The rain did not fall so much as it hung in the air of Oakhaven, a fine, persistent mist that settled into the pores of the skin and the crevices of the old brickwork, as if the town itself were sweating out a secret it could no longer keep. Elias Thorne stood at the window of his small office, the glass fogging under his breath, and watched the street below where the umbrellas opened and...
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