The Pale Altar

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2026-08-20 11:43:23 -

The Pale Altar

The train whistled a low, mournful note as it pulled away from the station, leaving Arthur Pendelton standing on the platform with his coat collar turned up against the biting November wind. He did not look back. He never did. He had spent the last three years walking away from things, from people, from the warm, soft edges of his own life, and now he walked toward the gray, iron-clad facade of...

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