The Pale Tower

added blog Literature

2026-08-20 06:18:23 -

The Pale Tower

The morning mist clung to the cobblestones of the city like a shroud that had not yet decided to be buried. I stood at the head of the column, my armor polished until it reflected the grey, weeping sky, a mirror that showed me not the man I was, but the instrument I had become. The air smelled of wet stone and old blood, a scent that had long since permeated the wool of my cloak and the leather...

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