The Pale Altar

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2026-08-19 19:27:55 -

The Pale Altar

The fire started in the ventilation shaft. It smelled of burning copper and old dust. Elias Vance sat at the head of the long mahogany table. The room was cold. The air conditioning hummed a low, electric drone. Outside, the city slept. Inside, the board of directors waited. Elias was a man of precision. He wore a suit cut from charcoal wool. His tie was knotted with mathematical exactness. He...

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