The Pale Tower
The rain in the coastal town of Harrow’s End did not wash things clean; it merely made the grime slicker, turning the pebbledash pavement into a mirror of the grey sky above, and you, Elias Thorne, stood on that pavement with your collar turned up against the damp, watching the water seep into the soles of your boots as you waited for the library doors to open, your mind a tangled knot of...
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