The Pale Tower

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2026-08-19 05:00:16 -

The Pale Tower

The hall at Blackwood Manor was alive with the heat of a hundred candles and the low, humming roar of voices. It was a feast for the harvest, a spectacle of excess that Margaret Holloway watched from the shadows of the gallery. She stood by the stone balustrade, her fingers tight against the cold marble, feeling the vibration of the string quartet below. The music was sharp, bright, and...

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