The Pale Altar

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2026-08-21 12:43:25 -

The Pale Altar

The bell rang at dawn. It was a low, wooden sound, dull as a bruise. Silas stood before the mirror. He was old. His hands shook. The shaking was new. It lived in the bones now. He looked at the reflection. The face was a map of scars. Each line told a lie. He dressed in the black robe. The fabric was heavy. It smelled of damp earth and old blood. The village of Oakhaven lay in the valley. Mist...

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