The Pale Altar

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2026-08-16 12:24:50 -

The Pale Altar

The stone altar stood where the church had burned, a square of pale limestone in a field of trampled yarrow. There was nothing left of the nave but the memory of its shadow—iron ties on the oak beams, blackened ribs reaching across a sky too blue for what had happened. Clara Whitcombe came every morning at half-light, when the mist still pooled in the furrows and the world held its breath...

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