The Pale Tower
The bell did not ring; it screamed. It was a sound that tore through the heavy, stale air of the Hall of Whispers, a metallic shriek that vibrated in the teeth of every man and woman present. It signaled the end of the reign, not with the quiet dignity of a sunset, but with the violent, abrupt cessation of a heart. Margaux sat in the center of the dais, her hands folded in her lap, her fingers...
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