The Pale Tower

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2026-08-23 08:57:02 -

The Pale Tower

Thorne. The name was not shouted, but it hung in the air of the customs house with the weight of a dropped iron gate, a sound that seemed to scrape against the linoleum floor where I stood, clutching the small glass vial in my sweating palm. I was forty-two years old, a man who had spent twenty years measuring the weight of other people’s secrets, and I had come here to weigh my own, to lay the...

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