The Pale Tower

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2026-08-22 18:37:18 -

The Pale Tower

The iron bar was cold against your palm, a slab of rusted metal that had not seen sunlight in decades, and you were dragging it across the packed earth of the cellar floor, the sound of its scrape echoing in the dark like the chittering of rats in the walls. You were Elias Thorne, a border warden of thirty-four years, and your hands, caked in the grey dust of the Pale Tower’s lowest level, were...

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