The Pale Altar
The silence in the sterile white room of the Central Bio-Synthetic Processing Facility was not an absence of sound but a heavy, pressurized presence, a physical weight that settled into the marrow of Elara Vance’s bones as she stood before the extraction chamber, watching the slow, rhythmic pulse of the nutrient solution that sustained her son, Kael, suspended in the translucent gelatinous...
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