The Pale Tower

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2026-08-20 18:32:02 -

The Pale Tower

The cellar smelled of damp wool and old stone, a scent that had seeped into the mortar so deeply that no amount of scrubbing could ever wash it out. I sat on the cold flagstones, my hands resting in my lap, watching the dust motes dance in the single shaft of light that pierced the gloom from the high, barred window above. It was not a place for a woman of my age, or perhaps of any age, but I...

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