The Pale Tower

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2026-08-22 14:39:10 -

The Pale Tower

The feast hall smelled of roasted boar and stale wine, a thick, cloying air that hung heavy over the heads of the monks and the visiting dignitaries. You sat in the corner, your hands folded in your lap, your knuckles white from the tension that had been building in your chest for weeks. You were twelve years old, the youngest apprentice scribe at St. Jude’s Abbey, and you wanted only to finish...

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