The Pale Altar

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2026-08-22 12:37:07 -

The Pale Altar

The silver locket sat on the workbench, a broken thing of tarnished metal and jagged edges, and Arthur Vane’s hands trembled not from fear but from the sheer, obsessive weight of the task before him. It was 1912, and the air in the back room of Sterling & Sons Textile Mill smelled of machine oil and damp wool, a scent that had seeped into the fibers of Arthur’s shirt and his own skin over the...

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