The Pale Tower
The train pulled away from the station in Ashford with a shudder that seemed to vibrate through the soles of my shoes and into the marrow of my bones. I watched the platform recede, the faces of the townspeople blurring into a grey smear of wool and resignation, until only the empty air remained where they had stood. I was leaving, or rather, I was being exiled, the distinction a nuance I could...
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