The Pale Tower

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2026-08-20 15:03:48 -

The Pale Tower

The banquet hall of the Obsidian Spire did not smell of roasted pheasant or aged wine, but of ozone and heated copper. You stand at the center of the circular room, your hands trembling not from hunger, but from the sheer, crushing weight of the silence that has settled over the assembled nobles. They are dressed in the finery of the late Victorian era, top hats and crinoline skirts, but their...

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