The Pale Altar
The banquet hall of the Ministry of Civic Reconciliation was a cathedral of glass and steel, suspended above the smog-choked valley of the city, and at its center stood Elias Thorne, a man whose body had become a vessel for a bureaucratic error so profound it defied the logic of human anatomy. He stood still, his hands resting on the polished mahogany of the table, his skin pale as the marble...
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