The Pale Altar

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2026-08-20 18:53:59 -

The Pale Altar

The chalice sat on the stone altar, its rim jagged and weeping a thin, dark line that smelled of iron and old blood. It was not a sacred object, not truly, but a piece of pottery from a kiln that had long since gone cold, shaped by hands that had forgotten the prayer of its making. Thomas held it in his gloved hands, the cold seeping through the leather to the bone, a sensation that mirrored...

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