The Pale Tower
The ink was already gone from the transfer order by the time Sergeant Elias Thorne reached for his pen. He had spent three years in the grey, damp stone of the Blackwood Garrison, enduring the cold and the monotony, all for the promise of a quiet posting on the coast where he could finally breathe. Now, the paper before him was blank, the words dissolving into a fine, white dust that settled on...
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