The Pale Tower

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2026-08-19 03:05:04 -

The Pale Tower

The ink in your quill is not black, but the dried blood of a promise you swore you would never break again. You sit in the high tower of Aethelgard, a city built of white stone and older, heavier shadows. The wind howls through the cracks in the masonry, a sound like the weeping of the dead, and you press the nib to parchment. You are writing your name. Not the name they gave you at baptism,...

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