The Pale Altar

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2026-08-20 11:01:30 -

The Pale Altar

The air in the Foundry tasted of copper and wet ash, a metallic tang that coated the back of my throat and settled in the lungs like fine sand. I was on my knees in the mud of the yard, the cold seeping through the soles of my boots, watching the great black iron doors of the Halloway & Sons Industrial Complex groan open to reveal the silhouette of Mr. Halloway. He did not look like a villain....

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