The Pale Tower

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2026-08-23 00:56:08 -

The Pale Tower

The brass gear was stuck fast, the teeth ground into the housing by a layer of rust that felt less like iron oxide and more like dried blood, and Elias Thorne pressed his thumbs against the rim, applying a steady, grinding pressure that made the tendons in his forearms stand out like cables. He was forty years old, a clockmaker by trade and a father by duty, and he had promised his daughter...

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