The Pale Altar

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2026-08-18 17:24:56 -

The Pale Altar

The banquet hall smelled of roasted goose and old stone. It smelled of victory. Sergeant Major Elias Thorne stood at the head of the table, his uniform pressed sharp enough to cut glass. He was not eating. He was watching the steam rise from the silver tureen, watching it curl and dissipate into the cold air of the town square. The people of Oakhaven were smiling. They were smiling at him. They...

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