The Pale Tower
The rain in Seattle did not fall so much as it hung in the air, a fine, persistent mist that soaked into the pores of the skin and settled in the joints. Elias Thorne stood in the lobby of the Meridian Tower, his duffel bag heavy against his shoulder, the weight of his tools a tangible anchor in a world that was rapidly dissolving around him. He was thirty-four years old, a structural engineer...
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