The Pale Tower

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2026-08-24 08:00:00 -

The Pale Tower

The silver circlet was cold against Elias’s palm, but it hummed, a low, persistent vibration that traveled up his wrist and settled in the marrow of his forearm. He sat in the stone-walled infirmary, the air thick with the smell of boiled linen and old damp, and watched the dust motes drift through the single shaft of light that cut across the floor. His fingers, stained with ink from the...

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