The Pale Door
You arrive at the gate before dawn. The mist is thick. It smells of wet iron and old ash. You are here to work. You are here to solve. The King has sent you. Not as a hero. As a tool. A sharp, cold instrument to cut the knot. The knot is the silence in the Tower. The Tower stands on the ridge. It is white stone. It is old. Older than the law. Older than the King. You climb the steps. Your boots...
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