The Pale Altar
The frost did not merely settle upon the courtyard of the Blackstone Keep; it invaded, a crystalline siege that turned the flagstones into mirrors of a winter so absolute it seemed to have no end, and I stood at the center of that cold perfection, my skin translucent with the specific, terrible clarity of one who has been stripped of every human pretense, while Lord Alistair Vane watched from...
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