The Pale Tower
The taste of ash was the first thing I knew, a gritty, metallic film coating the back of my throat before my eyes even opened. I woke not in my bed, but in a dream that felt more solid than the waking world, standing in a courtyard of slick, black stone. Above me, the sky was a bruised purple, and the air hummed with a low, thrumming vibration that I felt in my teeth. I was not alone. To my...
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