The Pale Altar
The bell tower had fallen at noon. You watched it drop, a slow, sickening tilt that defied gravity for a heartbeat before the stone crumbled into the street. Dust choked the square. People screamed, but you did not. You stood by the bakery, holding a loaf of bread that was no longer warm. The noise faded into a ringing hum in your ears. This was the start. You had known it was coming. Everyone...
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