The Pale Door
The silence in the Hall of Whispers was not an absence of sound, but a physical weight, a dense, viscous medium that pressed against the eardrums and settled into the marrow of the bones, a silence that had been cultivated over centuries by the Court of the Pale King to enforce a specific, terrifying kind of obedience, a silence that I, Elias Thorne, had spent the better part of my life...
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