The Pale Altar

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2026-08-21 19:21:13 -

The Pale Altar

The rain fell in sheets of gray silk, blurring the edges of the city into a watercolor of mud and stone. Elias walked. His boots were heavy, soaked through to the sole. He walked toward the Spire. It stood at the heart of the old quarter, a needle of black iron piercing the low, bruised clouds. It did not move. It did not breathe. It simply was. It had been there before his grandfather, before...

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