The Pale Altar

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2026-08-22 17:02:58 -

The Pale Altar

The letter lies on the desk, the ink still damp where the quill has rested, and the date scrawled in the corner reads November 14, 1893. I write to you, Martha, from this desolate hollow in the Highlands, where the wind does not blow so much as it presses against the skin, a constant, cold hand seeking entry. My concrete want is simple, a necessity that has grown teeth: I must secure the mining...

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