The Pale Altar

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2026-08-23 03:16:01 -

The Pale Altar

The quill scratched against the vellum with a sound like a bone being dragged across gravel, and Elias Thorne watched the ink spread, not into the fibers of the paper, but into the pores of his own withered left hand, the skin there as pale and translucent as the parchment itself. He was twenty years into his servitude at the Ministry of Tides, a tenure that had cost him the use of his left...

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