The Pale Tower
The dream was not a vision but a texture, a suffocating pressure of silk against the throat, and in it, Captain Elias Thorne was wearing his mother’s wedding ring, a band of platinum so thin it seemed less like metal and more like a frozen whisper, and he was trying to speak, but the words came out as shards of glass, cutting his tongue, and he woke with the taste of copper in his mouth and the...
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