The Pale Tower
The root system pulsed with a rhythm that matched Elias Thorne’s own failing heart, a wet, bioluminescent thrumming that vibrated through the concrete floor of Sub-basement Level 4. He pressed his forehead against the cold metal of the containment door, his breath fogging in the stale, recycled air, knowing that in three days he would be forced into retirement, stripped of his clearance, and...
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