The Pale Tower
In the dream, the city of Oakhaven did not sleep but rather simmered, a cauldron of fog and iron where the very air tasted of rust and old pennies, and Silas Vane, who had spent the better part of his waning years in the service of the Municipal Inquisitors, stood upon a precipice of stone that overlooked a chasm so deep the bottom was lost in a primordial darkness, clutching to his chest a...
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