The Pale Tower
The rain did not fall so much as it descended, a grey curtain of cold and silence that sealed the manor house against the rest of the world. Edward Ashworth sat in the high-backed chair by the hearth, his hands resting on his knees, feeling the ache in his fingers. It was a dull, persistent pain, a throbbing that had begun three days ago when he first touched the stone. He was a man of modest...
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