The Pale Altar

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2026-08-18 15:51:50 -

The Pale Altar

The bread was cold. It sat on the stone table, wrapped in linen, stiff as a board. Thomas stared at it. His hands were shaking. Not much. Just a tremor. A fine vibration in the fingers. "You can’t eat that," said Miller. Miller stood by the door. He held his sword loose in his hand. His face was gray. The light from the window was weak. It was noon, but the sky was heavy with rain. "It’s not...

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