The Pale Echo

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2026-08-19 09:54:42 -

The Pale Echo

The cold inside the watchtower was not merely a temperature; it was a presence, a heavy, gray hand resting upon your shoulders. You sat in the high chair, your back pressed against the damp stone, listening to the wind scrape against the arrow slits. It was the third week of the siege, and the silence of the city below had become so total that you could hear the blood moving in your own ears....

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