The Pale Altar

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2026-08-23 05:53:57 -

The Pale Altar

The hilt of the executioner’s sword was cold, slick with the sweat of Aldric’s palm as he adjusted his grip. It was a heavy thing, forged for the Order of the Pale Sun, its steel etched with verses of penance that had long since worn smooth from the touch of men who believed they were doing God’s work. The air in the crypt was thick, a damp weight that pressed against the skin, carrying the...

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