The Pale Tower
The rain had been falling for three days, a relentless, gray sheet that turned the cobblestones of the old town into slick, dark mirrors reflecting the low, bruised sky, and you walk through it with your boots heavy and your cloak soaked to the bone, the weight of the iron key in your pocket feeling less like a tool and more like a second heart, a cold, ticking thing that beats against your...
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