The Pale Tower
The stone did not hold the pain; it absorbed it, a slow and silent drinking that left the masonry cold to the touch even in the height of summer. Sotiris Stefanou remembered the sensation of his fingers sinking into the Pale Tower’s wall, the way the heat of his skin was siphoned away, replaced by a damp, heavy chill that settled in the bones. It was a domestic horror, quiet as a leak in the...
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