The Pale Tower
The rain had not stopped for three days, a persistent, gray veil that turned the cobblestones of Oakhaven into slick mirrors reflecting the bruised sky, and it was in this damp, suffocating quiet that Elias Thorne, a man whose uniform bore the dust of a border patrol that no longer existed, walked with the heavy, deliberate stride of a soldier returning to a battlefield he had long since lost....
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