The Pale Meridian

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2026-08-18 06:29:57 -

The Pale Meridian

The feast was a grotesque mirror of the order we had built, a sprawling, rotting table of roasted swan and spiced wine that stretched out into the dim, candle-lit nave of the chapel, where the air was thick with the scent of tallow and old sweat, and I sat at the end of the long oak bench with my hands clasped over my knees, watching the candlelight flicker against the stone pillars that rose...

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