The Pale Altar

added blog Literature

2026-08-20 05:21:12 -

The Pale Altar

The banquet hall smelled of burnt sugar and rot, a thick, cloying perfume that hung in the stagnant air like a shroud, and I sat at the head of the long mahogany table, my fingers stained with the red juice of crushed plums, watching the candles flicker with a rhythm that matched the frantic, arrhythmic pounding of my own heart. My father, Silas, sat opposite me, his face a map of wrinkles...

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