The Pale Tower

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2026-08-25 00:15:53 -

The Pale Tower

The pale root lay in Elias Thorne’s palm, cold as river stone and white as bone, its surface slick with a moisture that seemed to pull heat from the air around it. He turned it over, examining the fine, hair-like roots that clung to the earthy soil, while the cellar of the apothecary shop hummed with a low, subterranean dampness that settled deep in his chest. Above him, the floorboards creaked...

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