The Pale Altar

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2026-08-21 21:40:49 -

The Pale Altar

The ink bled. It started at the margin. A single drop of vermillion, sharp and cold, hitting the parchment of my commission. I watched it spread. A web. A heart. It did not stop. I am Sergeant Elias Thorne. Or I was. The title feels heavy now. Like a coat soaked in rain. The office smells of dust and old paper. The air is still. It does not move. Commander Vane stands by the window. He does not...

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