The Pale Altar

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2026-08-20 04:55:39 -

The Pale Altar

"You will not leave until the Tithe is paid," the Warden said, his voice not loud but carrying a weight that seemed to press the air out of the chapel. It was a dry, papery sound, like the rustle of old vellum, and it came from behind the heavy oak desk where he sat, his hands folded over a ledger that smelled of ink and mildew. I stood in the nave, my boots caked with the red clay of the...

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