The Pale Tower
The wall gave way at dawn. I heard it before I saw it. A low groan, like the creak of an old ship’s hull, followed by a shudder that vibrated up through the soles of my boots. Dust rained down from the vaulted ceiling, thick and gray, settling on my shoulders and in my hair. I stood in the center of the great hall, my sword unsheathed, my breath coming in short, sharp bursts. The silence that...
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