The Pale Altar
The bell did not ring; it exhaled, a low, resonant hum that vibrated in the marrow of my bones, a sound that seemed to emanate from the very stones of the floor rather than the brass clapper above the door. I stood in the center of the nave, my hands clasped behind my back in a posture of rigid, performant obedience, while the dust motes danced in the shafts of grey light that pierced the high,...
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