The Pale Tower
The question that hung in the freezing air was simple enough, though the answer had not yet arrived: what does it cost to be remembered? Amina Qasim stood at the foot of the Pale Tower, the stolen royal seal clutched in her hand, its iron weight pulling her arm down into the snow, and she waited for the gate to open, but the guards, their breath pluming in the glare of the ice field, only...
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