The Pale Tower

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2026-08-20 08:11:08 -

The Pale Tower

The rain had not stopped for nine days, a relentless, grey curtain that turned the ancient stone of the Abbey of St. Jude into a weeping thing, the mortar slick and the ivy heavy with a dampness that seemed to seep into the bones of the world. In the small, windowless scriptorium at the base of the tower, Master Elias sat hunched over a desk of black oak, his quill scratching a rhythm that was...

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