The Pale Tower
The dream was always the same: a tower of white stone, rising from a sea of grey mist, its peak lost in the clouds. In the dream, Elias stood at the base, holding a key made of cold iron. He did not need to climb. He only needed to unlock the door at the foot of the structure. When he turned the key, the tower did not open; it shattered, revealing not a room, but a void. He woke with the taste...
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