The Pale Altar

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2026-08-19 18:45:56 -

The Pale Altar

The cup sat on the table. It was white. Porcelain. Thin as a fingernail. Elias stared at it. It was the only thing in the room that had not changed. The walls were damp. The floor was cold stone. The air smelled of wet wool and old fear. But the cup remained. He was an exile. Everyone knew it. He wore a coat that had seen better decades. His hands shook. Not from the cold. From the waiting. The...

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