The Pale Tower

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2026-08-23 17:29:45 -

The Pale Tower

It was the ink that betrayed him, not the words, though the words were bad enough. Arthur Vane sat at the heavy oak desk in the sub-basement of the Municipal Archives, the gaslight hissing softly as it burned low, casting long, jagged shadows across the floor of polished concrete. The year was 1893, and the city above was a churning mass of coal smoke and iron, but down here, in the quiet dark,...

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