The Pale Altar
The frost had not yet touched the ground outside the Inquisitor’s high window, but inside, the air was thin and cold as a blade. Sir Aldric stood before the High Inquisitor, a man whose face was a map of rigid doctrine and unyielding judgment, and reported the vanishing of his wife, Elara. She had walked into the Whispering Woods three days prior, leaving behind only a single, unblemished white...
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