The Pale Tower
The ink was still wet on the ledger when Elias Thorne’s left hand began to shake, a fine, persistent tremor that made the quill scratch against the parchment like a rat gnawing through a wall. "Put that down, Sergeant," Captain Halloway said, not looking up from the window where the mist clung to the glass in gray, sucking tendrils. "The decree is absolute. No one leaves until the final vigil...
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