The Pale Altar
The Great Scale split with a sound like a bone breaking in a frozen field. Elias Thorne felt the vibration travel up his forearms, a sharp, cold shudder that settled deep in his marrow. He stood in the center of the Imperial Bureau’s main hall, his hands still resting on the brass pans, watching the central beam fracture into jagged, black-veined shards. The air grew instantly thick, smelling...
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