The Pale Tower
The sound of the glass shattering was not a crash but a scream, a high, thin shriek that tore through the sterile silence of the administrative wing. I stood in the center of the corridor, my hands still raised, trembling slightly, the dust of the broken frame settling on my shoulders like a fine, grey snow. I had not meant to break it. Or rather, I had intended to break it, but the speed of...
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