The Pale Altar

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2026-08-22 06:19:45 -

The Pale Altar

The cart wheels screamed against the frost-hardened earth of the moor, a sound like a dying animal being stretched over a drum, and I held the lantern so tightly that the brass warmed my palms until I could no longer feel the cold that was trying to seep into the marrow of my bones. I am a man who has spent his life measuring value in weight and volume, in the precise geometry of a cut stone or...

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