The Pale Tower
The old house stood at the edge of the marsh, a skeletal thing of stone and rot that breathed with the damp exhalations of the earth. It was not a home in any sense that mattered to those who walked the straight, paved roads of the county, but to Elara, it was a machine of silence, a complex biological system where every creak was a pulse and every draft a whisper of intent. She had inherited...
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