The Pale Altar
The fluorescent tubes in the basement archive hummed a low, electric B-flat, a sound that had long since worn into the marrow of my bones. I adjusted the magnifying lens, my breath fogging the glass as I leaned closer to the specimen. It was not a stone, nor a root, but a colony of bioluminescent fungi, pale as bone and pulsing with a slow, rhythmic light. The pulse was irregular, stuttering...
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