The Pale Tower
The iron lattice of the observation deck groaned under the weight of the morning fog, a sound that vibrated through the soles of my boots and settled deep into the marrow of my bones, a constant, low-frequency hum that had become the soundtrack of my confinement for the past three weeks. I stood alone on the precipice of the Tower, that monolithic finger of riveted steel and soot-stained glass...
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