The Pale Altar

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2026-08-19 09:35:07 -

The Pale Altar

The brass astrolabe on my desk had not turned in three days, yet the room continued to spin with a nauseating, slow gravity that I could not quite name. I am a man of minor consequence in the vast, smog-choked machinery of the Empire’s administrative core, a clerk whose hands are stained not with ink, but with the invisible residue of the decisions made by men far more powerful than myself. I...

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