The Pale Altar

added blog Literature

2026-08-18 11:18:22 -

The Pale Altar

The frost had crept up the roots of the ancient oaks in Millhaven, turning the leaves into brittle coins that chimed faintly in the wind. Elias Thorne stood in the center of his garden, a place that was less a garden and more a shrine to the slow, inevitable decay of all things. He was a man of sixty winters, his face a map of deep furrows etched by time and worry, his hands rough as the bark...

0 Comments 0 Shares 2 Views 0 Reviews