The Pale Altar
The bell of the keep did not ring at the hour of the watch, but rather in a long, discordant toll that seemed to scrape against the inside of the skull, a sound of rusted iron weeping in the cold wind that howled through the stone corridors of the Ashworth estate. It was a sound that belonged to the pre-dawn, to the time when the boundary between the living world and the realm of spirits was...
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