The Pale Tower
Chapter One Mei Yang wiped the condensation from the observation glass with a rag that smelled of bleach and wet wool, her breath fogging the cold air as the low-frequency hum vibrated against her molars. She was thirty-four, and the transfer form sat in her coat pocket, a crumpled slip of paper promising a quiet life on the mainland, but the Tower’s rhythm made her hands shake. The sound...
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