The Pale Altar
The door is open. It has been open for three days. You stand in the threshold, your small hands shaking not from cold, but from the weight of the silence. The village of Oakhaven lies behind you, a smear of smoke and stone under the grey sky. Ahead is the cliff. The edge of the world. You are seven years old. Your name is Elias, though it matters little now. The wind tastes of salt and iron. It...
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