The Pale Altar
The rain did not fall so much as it hung in the air, a grey curtain that blurred the line between the heath and the sky, and you stood there with your hands behind your back, watching the water drip from the brim of your hat, while the road wound behind you like a scar that refused to heal. You had walked for three days, and your boots were heavy with mud, and the silence in your head was...
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