The Pale Tower
The shadow of the Pale Tower fell across the frost-hardened ground of the Thorne estate before the sun had even cleared the horizon, a geometric impossibility that Elias Thorne had spent twenty years trying to rationalize as a trick of the light, a refraction in the thin, cold air that clung to the borderlands like a damp sheet. He stood on the porch, his hands trembling with the familiar,...
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