The Pale Altar

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2026-08-22 15:55:30 -

The Pale Altar

Thorne. The word hung in the damp air of the dungeon, spoken by the guard with the same flat disdain one might use to name a stray dog. I did not look up from my notes. The stone floor was cold enough to seep through my boots, a chill that settled in the marrow and refused to leave, but my hands were steady as I recorded the time. It was the fourth day of my confinement, and the King was dying....

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