The Pale Altar
The rain fell in sheets, gray and relentless, blurring the boundary between the road and the fields. Thomas walked. He did not look back. Behind him, the estate gates stood open, a dark mouth swallowing the twilight. He carried nothing but the weight of his own bones and the silence of his vow. He had left Eleanor. Not by choice, but by necessity. The men of the house had come for her. They...
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