The Pale Tower
The mud was thick enough to swallow a boot whole, and Elias Thorne stood in it, watching the ridge where the ice had begun to form. It was not a frost, not a glaze, but a structure, a pale column rising from the treeline with the slow, terrible patience of a building. He had been waiting for the radio to crackle, for the voice of Major Vance to cut through the static, but the device hung silent...
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