The Pale Tower
The iron key in your hand is cold, the metal biting into the palm with a specific, jagged pressure that feels less like a tool and more like an extension of your own bone. It is a master key, heavy and ornate, designed for the Blackgate Penitentiary, a structure of grey stone that has stood on the riverbank for three hundred years, its walls so thick they seem to absorb the light from the...
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