The Pale Tower

a adăugat un sunet Literature

2026-08-20 14:15:35 -

The Pale Tower

The feast was loud, a roaring mouth of noise that swallowed the candlelight and left only the smell of roasting goose and wet wool in the air. I sat at the edge of the long oak table, my fingers stained with grease, watching the steam rise from the trenchers in a slow, lazy spiral. The air was thick, almost solid, pressing against my skin like a damp cloth. I had come here to be seen, to be...

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