The Pale Tower

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2026-08-21 16:01:12 -

The Pale Tower

The dream always began with the smell of ozone and wet wool. It was a sharp, metallic tang that sat on the back of the throat, a precursor to violence. In the dream, the walls of the chateau were breathing, expanding and contracting with a slow, tidal rhythm. The air was thick, viscous, heavy with a humidity that felt less like weather and more like a physical weight pressing against the...

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