The Pale Tower
The interrogation room in the Pale Tower did not have windows, but it did not need them, for the light was not light but a suspended, gelatinous fog that had seeped through the ventilation grates and settled over the steel table like a second skin. Elias Thorne, a border inspector of forty-two years with a spine stiffened by twenty years of standing guard and a heart hammering against his ribs...
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