The Pale Tower
The dream began with the smell of wet wool and coal smoke. You were standing in the hallway of the old Ashworth estate, the air thick with the dust of decades. Your younger brother, Thomas, stood before you. He looked unwell, his face pale beneath the shadow of his collar, his hands trembling as he held a small, velvet pouch. He did not speak. He simply looked at you with an expression of such...
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