The Pale Tower
The dream did not wake Elias; it merely shifted the ground beneath his feet from the cold tile of the university library to the warm, uneven flagstones of a courtyard that smelled of ozone and dried lavender. He stood before the Pale Tower, a structure of such impossible height that its apex vanished into a sky the color of a bruised plum. The stone was not white, but a pale, living grey, like...
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