The Pale Altar

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2026-08-19 09:27:51 -

The Pale Altar

The morning mist clung to the eaves of our ancestral manor, a heavy, damp shroud that smelled of rotting peat and the sweet, cloying decay of autumn leaves, a scent that had long since ceased to be merely olfactory and had instead become a physical weight pressing against the inside of my skull, a pressure that matched the tightening of the leather harness across my chest as I stood before the...

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