The Pale Tower
The air in the basement archive of the St. Jude’s Orphanage did not merely smell of mildew and decaying paper, but of a suffocating, sweet rot that seemed to emanate from the very pores of the stone walls, a miasma that had settled over the institution like a heavy, gray shroud that no amount of scrubbing with lye and bleach could ever fully lift. Margaret Holloway had been working there for...
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