The Pale Altar

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2026-08-19 23:05:39 -

The Pale Altar

The morning began with the usual grinding of the millstone, a sound that had become the metronome of my existence in this pale, suspended country. I sat at the edge of the stone table, watching the flour rise in a fine, silent dust that settled on the back of my hand like a second skin. Here, in the Kingdom of the White Silence, the air did not carry the scent of rain or woodsmoke, but only the...

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