The Pale Altar

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2026-08-18 21:08:04 -

The Pale Altar

The banquet hall of St. Jude’s Asylum for the Mentally Deficient was a cathedral of steam and rust. The air hung thick, saturated with the scent of boiled cabbage and wet wool. It was a smell that clung to the skin, refusing to wash away. Major Elias Thorne sat at the head of a long, scarred table. His uniform was crisp, white, and blindingly bright. It stood out against the grimy brick walls...

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