The Pale Tower
The frost did not merely chill the air in the winter of 1342; it hunted the written word with a specific, hungry malice, erasing ink from parchment as quickly as the scribe could lay it down, a phenomenon that had turned the northern provinces into a landscape of blank, terrified silence. Elias, twelve years old and possessed of a scribe’s narrow, precise mind, left the decaying estate of his...
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