The Pale Tower

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2026-08-24 10:00:44 -

The Pale Tower

The brass key was warm from Arthur’s palm, its teeth worn smooth by decades of turning in the lock of the study door, a small, heavy thing that felt less like metal and more like a solidified piece of time. He held it up to the window where the afternoon light, thin and pale as diluted milk, cut through the dust motes dancing in the stagnant air, and for a moment he could not decide if he was...

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