The Pale Altar
The stone hums at a frequency that your left ear cannot hear, but your right one registers as a low, grinding pressure behind the eye socket. You are Elias Thorne, forty-two, and you have spent the last six hours in the sub-basement of the Municipal Archives, cataloging the artifact designated PA-04, which the staff privately calls the Pale Altar. It is a slab of limestone, unadorned, yet it...
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