The Pale Altar

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2026-08-19 04:33:07 -

The Pale Altar

The feast was not of meat, but of silence. It spread across the table in the great hall of the Abbey of St. Jude, a thick, suffocating layer that smelled of damp stone and old parchment. I sat at the head, not as a lord, but as a guest who had forgotten his name. The candles burned low, their flames trembling not from wind, but from the sheer weight of the air. Around me, the monks sat in their...

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