The Pale Altar

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2026-08-23 10:28:47 -

The Pale Altar

The mortar was cold, and Thomas Bradshaw knew by the angle of the single shaft of light cutting through the cellar’s high window that it was precisely three hours past the bell for Vespers, a measurement more reliable than the sun itself. He weighed the dried petals of the moonwort against the lead counterweight, his hands trembling not from fear but from the sheer, technical precision required...

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