The Pale Altar

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2026-08-19 16:06:50 -

The Pale Altar

The banquet hall smelled of roasted garlic and old money. It was a scent that clung to the velvet curtains, thick as fog, masking the rot beneath the floorboards. Elias stood by the pillar, his hands clasped behind his back, holding a silver chalice filled with wine that was the color of dried blood. He was not a guest. He was a servant. But tonight, he was holding the object that defined his...

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