The Pale Altar

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2026-08-17 22:32:38 -

The Pale Altar

The train left at dawn, and you watched it shrink into the grey mist that clung to the platform like a shroud. You did not wave. You simply held the small, leather-bound notebook in your hands, feeling the weight of it against your palms. It was a record of recipes, but not for bread or stew. It was a catalog of compounds. You were a chemist, or perhaps a pharmacist, depending on who asked. In...

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