The Pale Altar

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2026-08-23 02:36:44 -

The Pale Altar

The stone is cold, Elias. It has always been cold. Lord Vane’s voice did not echo; it simply arrived, flat and bureaucratic, like a ledger entry read aloud in an empty room. You stood in the library, the air thick with the scent of damp wool and old paper, your fingers tracing the grain of the mahogany table. It was splintered near the edge, a roughness that bit into your skin, a small,...

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