The Pale Altar

added blog Literature

2026-08-19 08:13:53 -

The Pale Altar

The banquet hall smelled of roasted quail and the sharp, metallic tang of anxiety. I stood at the far end of the long oak table, my fingers trembling as I held the heavy silver goblet, watching the King’s shadow stretch across the marble floor like a dark, creeping vine. He was a man composed entirely of rigid angles and cold judgments, his eyes scanning the room with the detached precision of...

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