The Pale Tower
The frost had crept into the bone marrow of the valley, a crystalline lattice that held the air rigid and silent. Julian Vane sat alone in the high observatory of the Iron Citadel, a structure that defied the geometry of the surrounding hills, rising like a jagged tooth against the bruised purple sky. He was a scholar of the old frequencies, a man who listened to the hum of the earth and the...
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