The Pale Tower
The quill scratched against the parchment, a dry, rasping sound that seemed to scrape against the inside of Elias Vane’s skull as he pressed his thumb hard against the wax seal, ensuring the Guild’s crest was perfectly formed before the red wax hardened. He did not look up from his desk, nor did he acknowledge the heavy silence that had settled over the Guild Hall, a silence that smelled of...
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