The Pale Path

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2026-08-23 06:56:11 -

The Pale Path

In his right hand, Elias Thorne held a chisel worn smooth by forty years of friction, its steel edge dulling against the grain of white oak. The wood was cold, slick with the condensation that had begun to bead on the chapel floor. He pressed the tool into the joint of the altar rail, expecting the satisfying resistance of solid timber, but the blade slid through as if cutting wet paper. The...

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