The Pale Altar

added blog Literature

2026-08-21 15:47:15 -

The Pale Altar

The rain in Blackwood did not wash things clean; it merely slicked the grime into the brickwork, turning the soot of a hundred coal-fired engines into a dark, wet paste that smelled of sulfur and old pennies. Sergeant Elias Thorne stood on the wet cobblestones of the main square, his greatcoat heavy with water, watching the crowd that had gathered around the central statue of the Founding...

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