The Pale Altar
The chapel door had been off its hinges since Tuesday. It leaned against the ivy like a broken rib. Elias stood in the yard, watching the dust settle. The stone altar in the center of the nave was cracked down the middle. Not shattered. Just split. A clean, vertical fissure running from the front lip to the back edge. It looked like a wound that had stopped bleeding. "It’s done," Elias said....
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