The Pale Tower
I woke with the taste of iron and wet slate on my tongue. The dream had been simple, a recurring loop I had not had in years. I was standing in the center of the town square, but the ground was not pavement. It was a single, unbroken sheet of black glass. Above me, the sky was not sky. It was a wall of pale, translucent stone, towering impossibly high, blocking out the sun, blocking out the...
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