The Pale Altar

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2026-08-20 10:35:21 -

The Pale Altar

The road through the Ashwood Marsh was not a path so much as a suggestion, a thin scar of packed mud and rotting bramble that wound between the blackened stumps of trees which had long since ceased to care about the sun. Elias Thorne walked it with the heavy, rhythmic gait of a man whose bones had forgotten how to rest. He carried no pack, only the weight of what he did not carry: the silence...

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