The Pale Altar

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2026-08-18 08:50:39 -

The Pale Altar

The bell rang. It was not a church bell. It was the iron gong of the Watch Tower. Three strikes. Heavy. Cold. Elias stood by the window. The glass was thick. Old. It smelled of dust and dried blood. He did not look at the village below. He looked at his hands. They were steady. He was a Watchman. That was his title. That was his sin. The village of Oakhaven was dying. Not of plague. Not of war....

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