The Pale Altar

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2026-08-20 10:21:39 -

The Pale Altar

The banquet hall smelled of roasted pheasant and ozone. Columbus Vance sat at the head of the mahogany table. He was a large man, his shoulders broad enough to block the light from the chandeliers. His uniform was pressed to a mirror shine. The gold braid on his cuffs caught the eye. It was a uniform of order. Of control. He ate methodically. Each bite was measured. Each swallow deliberate....

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