The Pale Altar
The train pulls away from the platform of Oakhaven Station. You watch the tail lights fade into the grey morning mist. You are not watching for you. You are watching for the silence that follows. You have been here for three years. Three years in the gray stone walls of the Penitentiary for Civil Disobedience. The air is thin here. It tastes of wet concrete and old fear. You are a prisoner. Not...
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