The Pale Altar

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2026-08-20 05:21:49 -

The Pale Altar

The rain did not fall so much as it hung, a gray curtain drawn tight across the window of the Inquest Office. Inside, the air smelled of wet wool and old paper, a scent that had seeped into the wood grain over three centuries. Elias Thorne stood by the desk, his hands hovering over the body of a man who had not been dead for ten years. The corpse lay on the slab, pale and still, dressed in the...

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