The Pale Altar

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2026-08-19 05:33:18 -

The Pale Altar

The house breathed. That was the only way I could describe it, not as a creaking of old timbers settling into the earth, but as a slow, rhythmic inhalation that filled the lungs of the walls, the floorboards, and the very air we breathed. We were alone in the Whitmore estate, a sprawling, decaying manor on the edge of the moor, where the fog rolled in like a living thing, gray and thick,...

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